LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

95-7 

Class 


Narrative  Lyrics 


Bv 

Edward  Lucas  White 


G.  P.  PUTNAPTS  SONS 
New  York  and  London 

3be  •Knickerbocker  press 
1908 


f  CFTHE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


COPYRIGHT,  1908 

BY 
EDWARD  LUCAS  WHITE 


ttbe  ftnicfeerbocfter  pre00,  "Hew 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED 

TO 
HIM  WHO  APPROVED 


210417 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

LUCIFER        .          .          .  .         .          .         i 

RHAMPSINITOS                 .         ;  .         .         .         8 

TALITH          .         .         <         .  .         .         .21 

EGLON  AND  EHUD           .          .  .          .          .       26 

SHAMGAR      .         ,         t         .  .         .         .36 

THE  LEVITE.          .          .          .  .          .          .46 

BENAIAH       .                   .         .  .         .         .49 

DEIOCES        .          .  .       .          .  .          .                 52 

THE  TITAN 55 

THE  LAST  BOWSTRINGS            .  .                    -63 

KRANAE        .          .          .          .  .          .          .       68 

THE  RETRIBUTION  .....       78 

VERTUMNA    .          .  -      .          .  .          .          .86 

THE  MEASURE  OF  THE  SWORD  ...       95 

DONE  FOR    .         .         .         .  .         ,         •     II3 


VI 


Contents 


PAGE 

MARCABRUN 

120 

124 

THE  EMPEROR 

.           126 

120 

Acknowledgments  are  due  Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  and 
Company  for  permission  to  reprint  "The  Last  Bowstrings"  and 
"Benaiah,"  which  were  published  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  for  May, 
1891  and  April,  1892. 


vii 


NARRATIVE   LYRICS 


LUCIFER. 

THERE  is  a  tale  that,  when,  around  the  throne 
Of  Allah  in  vast  circles  blazed  and  shone 
The  shields  of  rebel  angels,  Almahar, 
The  friend  of  Lucifer,  had  flown  afar 
Upon  a  mission  to  some  shadowy  clime 
Beyond  the  reach  of  the  resounding  chime 
Of  the  strong  chorus  of  the  choiring  spheres; 
Where  not  one  spirit  in  the  silence  hears 
Even  the  whirr  of  the  lone  star  that  swings 
On  the  dim  border  of  their  circling  rings; 
Where  all  things  are  not  found  to  know  or  tell 
Like  anything  in  earth  or  heaven  or  hell. 

While  he  upon  his  errand  passed  the  bound 

Of  the  pale  confines  where  all  light  and  sound 

Fade  into  that  which  is  not  day  nor  night, 

Where  is  no  ghost  of  darkness  or  of  light, 

His  friend,  on  fire  with  immortal  pride, 

Because  the  ether  where  his  pinions  plied 

Was  the  same  ether  which  all  angels  breathed ; 

Because  the  light  wherewith  his  brows  were  wreathed 


2  Lucifer 

As  each  archangel's  halo  of  them  all 

Shone,  and  not  brighter;  since  the  rise  and  fall 

Of  his  strong  purple  wings  diffused  and  shed 

Such  perfume  as  all  angel  plumage  fed, 

No  other  and  no  sweeter;  since  the  tones 

Of  his  gold  voice,  such  as  each  angel  owns, 

Not  stronger  and  not  clearer,  like  a  sword 

Clove  heaven  through  with  praises  of  the  Lord; 

Because  he  was  not  any  other  thing 

Than  what  he  was,  rose  up  against  the  King, 

Hating  the  very  heaven  that  he  trod 

Because  he  was  an  angel  and  not  God. 

After  the  lightnings  of  the  Lord  had  burned 

Their  pride,  and  all  their  strength  to  fear  was  turned, 

Above  their  heads,  now  haloless  and  bowed, 

The  sentence  hurtled,  harsh  as  fire  and  loud: 

Into  the  kingdom  of  the  nether  world, 

Where  Eblis  rules,  the  rebels  should  be  hurled, 

Cast  out  of  heaven  forever,  now  no  more 

Angels,  but  demons  among  demons,  soar 

They  might  not  in  the  day,  but  in  the  dark 

In  vain  should  strive,  in  vain  should  gaze  and  hark 

Unto  the  silence,  and  each  one  alone 

With  his  own  memories  might  laugh  or  moan, 

But  never  sing  and  never  smile  again, 

And  ever  seek  new  memories  in  vain, 

For  no  new  thought  might  ease  or  change  the  smart 

Where  the  old  thoughts  ate  into  each  one's  heart. 

When  Almahar,  his  errand  ended,  came 

From  Allah's  presence,  clothed  with  velvet  flame 


I/ucifer  3 

His  flight  had  kindled,  missing  Lucifer 

And  all  at  once  aware  of  a  vague  stir 

Deep  in  averted  eyes,  he  asked  at  length, 

And  Raphael,  shuddering  through  all  his  strength, 

Answering  his  longing  for  his  absent  friend, 

Told  him  all  things  whatever  to  the  end. 

The  angel,  with  bowed  face  and  loosened  hair, 

Fled  out  of  heaven,  wandering  anywhere 

Among  the  wildernesses  of  the  stars 

Beyond  the  radiance  of  heaven's  bars, 

Bewailing  his  lost  friend.     Between  his  hands 

The  hot  tears  fell,  like  pearls  or  golden  sands, 

And  from  his  head  his  pale  straight  tresses  streamed, 

And  to  a  thousand  worlds  their  shining  seemed 

A  portent  of  some  woe  unspeakable 

Lit  from  fires  of  a  colder  hell. 

And  when  he  took  his  place  among  the  choir 

Again,  his  face  was  changed  as  though  by  fire, 

And  paler  than  is  any  restless  ghost 

He  sang,  the  saddest  of  the  heavenly  host. 

After  a  thousand  ages,  Almahar 

Passed  through  a  region  where  there  is  one  star 

Whose  baleful  light  makes  deaf  the  eyes  and  stuns, 

And  a  vast  meadow,  all  aflower  with  suns, 

Is  under  it  where  it  hangs  in  the  dark. 

And    there    he    paused    and    seemed    to   muse    and 

hark, 

Pondering  the  loveliness  beneath  his  feet, 
And  when  he  raised  his  eyes,  it  was  to  greet 
The  gaze  of  his  lost  friend  who  sat  enthroned 
Upon  the  dark  star  where  it  swung  and  groaned. 


4  I/ucifer 

The  silence  boomed  and  thundered  in  their  ears, 

And,  their  eyes  brimming  with  eternal  tears, 

Each  felt  his  life  flow  backward  at  full  tide, 

And  speechlessness  seemed  with  them  to  abide. 

Almahar  broke  the  stillness,  and  his  speech 

Was  a  hoarse  whisper  as  though,  out  of  reach, 

Beyond  some  gray  horizon,  moaned  and  roared 

The  billows  of  an  ocean  grim,  unshored, 

Salt  with  the  bitternesses  of  the  tears 

Of  myriad  nations  shed  through  countless  years. 

And  the  strained  voice,  charged  with  a  multitude 

Of  sympathies  and  yearnings  unsubdued, 

Spoke  much,  and  the  words  little,  and  he  said, 

"You  suffer,  Lucifer."     The  other's  head 

Quivered  erect  on  his  tense  neck,  his  eyes 

Blazed  with  uncounted  molten  memories, 

His  answer  was  a  chill  and  bristling  hiss 

Filling  the  hard  unlovable  abyss 

With  writhing  sighs :     ' '  Would  I  could  make  you  feel 

The  agonies,  more  sharp  than  fire  or  steel, 

That  eat  my  heart  out, "  Lucifer  replied. 

"And  yet  there  is  no  other  one  beside 

So  fierce  and  fell  as  this,  I  cannot  gain 

The  power  to  make  you  share  my  rage  and  pain. 

No  effort  or  device  my  thought  conjures 

Can  give  my  soul  the  power  to  hurt  yours 

As  I  would  hurt  you  had  I  but  the  power 

To  fuse  eternity  into  one  hour, 

To  mix  in  it  the  misery  that  dwells 

In  all  the  caverns  of  the  farthest  hells 

And  set  this  wave  of  deathless  fire  to  roll 

Forth  in  a  torrent  and  engulf  your  soul 


Lucifer 

And  smother  it  forever!"     When  amaze 

And  questionings  lit  up  the  other's  gaze, 

He  burst  out  once  again:     "Can  you  not  see 

What  tortures,  and  has  always  tortured  me? 

The  universe  cries  out  with  one  accord, 

'He  fell  because  his  heart  could  brook  no  lord.' 

And  what  would  it  avail  to  me  that  I 

Should  face  them  all  and  give  their  throats  the  lie? 

It  may  be  true — all  beings  know  this  smart — 

Not  even  Satan  can  read  Satan's  heart. 

To  you  I  swear  I  did  and  could  obey 

As  all  the  angels,  easily  as  they. 

But  heaven  was  unto  me  a  vaster  hell— 

To  know  forever,  and  to  know  too  well, 

That  all  the  hierarchies  of  the  blest 

Looked  up  to  me  as  purest,  noblest,  best,        «• 

As  perfect  in  all  thoughts  and  in  each  deed, 

Sterling  at  heart  and  certain  to  succeed, 

While  I  could  see,  along  with  no  surprise, 

My  valuation  writ  in  Allah's  eyes. 

You  I  had  loved,  you  loved  me  well  of  old, 

But  how  could  any  love  or  friendship  hold, 

When  I  beheld  grow  and  increase  in  you, 

Who  knew  my  life  and  mind  and  heart  all  through, 

The  like  perception  of  my  real  unworth  ? 

I  saw  it,  and  that  was  my  hatred's  birth. 

Torture  enough  it  was  to  me  that  I 

Saw  every  angel  halt  to  let  me  by, 

And  knew  myself  unworthy  all  the  while ; 

Worse,  what  I  saw  well  hid  in  Allah's  smile, 

And  worst  that  you,  my  confidant  and  friend, 

Should  know  me  as  I  was,  and  still  pretend 


6  I/ucifer 

To  have  for  me  your  old  unreined  esteem; 

Could  read  me  and  be  willing  yet  to  seem 

Full  of  your  old  bright  gladness  in  my  sight ; 

Appear  to  give  me  what  had  been  my  right — 

And  was  no  more ;  conserve  the  fair  outside 

Which  you  had  showed  me  trusted  and  untried, 

And  which  you  knew  I  never  did  deserve. 

And  well  I  knew  no  speech  of  mine  would  serve, 

If  I  had  spoken.     Still  your  loyalty 

Would  say  that  you  had  seen  no  change  in  me, 

That  you  loved  me  as  truly  as  of  old, 

And  knew  my  tinselled  dross  for  very  gold. 

I  knew  your  fancies  you  almost  believed, 

And  by  your  hopes  of  me  were  half  deceived. 

And  to  my  pride  this  was  the  keenest  smart, 

That  sympathy  for  me  was  in  your  heart, 

A  longing  that  I  might  be  as  I  seemed, 

And  the  black  insult  that  you  ever  dreamed 

I  might  become  so  through  your  help  and  love; 

This  was  my  crowning  wrong,  all  else  above, 

That  you  were  able  to  admit  at  all 

Compassion  for  my  weakness  and  my  fall. 

Help — which  I  would  not  brook  from  the  Most  High — 

From  you!  presuming  on  our  friendship's  tie! 

Since  Allah  knew,  why  should  he  still  forbear? 

He  felt  compassion  too!     I  was  his  care! 

'T  was  then  I  turned  my  force  of  mind  and  limb 

To  make  impossible  for  you  or  him 

Aid  or  compassion.     Truly  I  might  be 

Damned,  but  I  still  should  stand  self-poised  and  free, 

No  ward  for  help  or  satellite  for  gain, 

But  mine  own  sovereign,  bearing  mine  own  pain. 


lyucifer 

Him  I  have  thwarted.     Sympathy  nor  ruth 

Can  ever  touch  his  chill  and  righteous  truth. 

But  you  are  gentle  still.     Now  do  you  know 

Why  hatred  of  you  still  in  me  must  grow? 

Hate  I  can  face,  and  feel  my  pulses  thrill 

With  hate  no  hate  can  master  or  can  kill, 

But  yet  I  feel  one  hate  all  hates  above 

At  the  unmanning  knowledge  of  your  love, 

And  twenty-fold  I  hate  you  that  you  dare 

Still  to  insult  with  pity  my  despair." 

He  ceased,  and  hatred  filled  his  eyes  and  ears 

To  realize  the  angel's  gaze  and  tears. 

And  Almahar  in  gentleness  replied : 

"In  very  deed  my  love  has  never  died, 

And  it  will  live  forever  as  it  ought, 

The  more  because  I  find  you,  whom  I  thought 

A  demon  among  demons  since  your  fall, 

Are  still  a  fallen  angel,  after  all." 


RHAMPSINITOS. 


e  raura   eXeyov  TOVTOV    TOV   /JacriAea  £a>oi>  Ka.Taj3rjvai 
e's  TOV   ot  "EXA^ves   di'S^v  vo/xt£ovo-i  eivcu,  KdKtWi  crwyK 
rrj  &TJfj,r)Tpi,  Kal  TO.  /aev  VIKCU>  curn?i>  ra  8e  ecrcroucr^at  VTT* 
Kat'yutv   Tra'Aiv    ava>   aTrtKecr^at   Swpov   e^ovra   Trap*    avr^s    X 

HERODOTUS,  ii.,  122. 


AFTER  dark  the  chariot  was  harnessed, 
And  the  King  came  through  a  hidden  postern, 
Mounted  in  the  boskage  of  his  gardens, 
And  in  silence  through  a  distant  gateway, 
Void  of  ornament  and  giving  egress 
Into  a  walled  lane,  the  car  was  driven. 
Slowly  through  the  city,  choosing  byways, 
The  four  horses  plodded ;  when  the  houses 
All  were  left  behind,  the  lash  laid  on  them 
Hurled  them  like  winged  eagles  toward  the  desert. 
Through  the  low  haze  the  uneasy  moonlight 
Fell  obliquely  on  a  speeding  shadow 
Tipped  with  silver  manes,  a  soundless  flurry 
Of  gilt  hoofs,  white  spokes,  and  whirring  tires 
With  a  surf  of  brown-red  sand  about  it 
In  cascades  of  dust,  and  all  behind  it 
Were  unrolled  two  narrow,  inky  furrows, 


RHampsinitos 

As  the  shadow  skimmed  the  sun-baked  surface 
Toward  the  caverned  rock-hill-range  of  Ammon. 
There  one  shape  with  crowned  and  crested  helmet 
Vanished  in  a  cleft  of  rock.     Outside  it 
Three  remained,  one  helmeted  and  crested, 
Two  bareheaded,  by  the  steaming  horses. 


II 


And  when  the  grooms  had  loosed  the  sweating  team 

And  picketed  them  safely  by  the  rocks, 

In  the  deep  shadow,  and  had  given  each 

An  armful  of  the  fodder  they  had  brought; 

And,  when  they  cooled,  had  poured  for  each  a  drink 

Of  water  from  the  goat-skin  water-bag 

Into  the  leathern  bucket;  while  the  beasts 

Crunched  on  contentedly,  they  greased  the  hubs, 

So  they  would  run  for  certain  without  creaking; 

They  wiped  the  harness  dry  and  hung  it  up 

Along  the  railing  of  the  tilted  car. 

And  then  the  grooms  stood,  drank  again  and  puffed, 

And  mopped  their  faces  well,  and  drank  once  more. 

And  the  tall  officer  of  the  King's  guards, 

He  who  had  driven,  took  his  helmet  off 

And  wiped  his  lordly  forehead,  staring  out 

Over  the  desert  at  the  sinking  moon. 

And  then  the  three  sat  down  upon  their  cloaks 

And  leaned  against  the  rocks  and  drank  more  wine. 

And  the  grooms  wondered  if  that  off -wheel  spoke 

Was  sprung  as  badly  as  it  looked  to  be ; 

Discussed  the  left-hand  trace-horse's  sore  mouth ; 

Wished  he  had  a  new  cover  on  his  bit, 


io  RHampsinitos 

And  said  the  old  skin-cover  was  too  hard — 

It  chafed  his  mouth,  they  'd  told  the  head-groom  so. 

And  as  the  other  was  not  mellowed  yet 

With  drinking,  but  had  grown  more  dignified,     . 

As  the  first  three  drinks  usually  made  him, 

He  only  listened  to  them,  broad  awake. 


Ill 


Rhampsinitos,  through  the  silent  cavern, 

Followed  fast  a  guide  whose  treads  were  noiseless, 

And  whose  eyes  gave  out  the  only  torch-rays 

That  lit  up  the  monarch's  ringing  footsteps. 

And  the  guide  went  first.     His  face  was  hidden 

From  the  mortal  following  behind  him, 

Yet  if  he  had  seen  it  every  moment 

He  would  not  have  dreaded  the  eye-sockets, 

Empty  and  aflame  and  phosphorescent, 

For  his  courage  was  a  kingly  courage. 

And  the  pathway,  sharply  sloping  downwards, 

Led  him  finally  unto  a  portal 

Carved  with  carvings  beautiful  and  sombre. 

And  his  guide  there  turned  aside  and  vanished. 

After  a  brief  space  of  utter  darkness, 

The  doors  opened  with  a  hingeless  silence. 

Rhampsinitos  entered  a  thick-columned 

Lintelled  hall,  so  vast  the  roof  was  hidden, 

Not  by  darkness,  but  by  very  distance, 

For,  although  the  myriads  of  braziers, 

Shed  a  light  lead-colored,  slow,  and  heavy, 

Nothing  in  the  place  was  clothed  in  shadow. 

The  King  strode  between  the  throngs  of  pillars  ; 


RHampsinitos  n 

Paced  the  hall's  length  on  the  middle  pavement; 

Paused  at  the  first  step  before  the  throne-place; 

Stood  and  gazed  upon  the  Queen  who  sat  there; 

Saw  her  eyes,  the  eyes  of  great  Demeter, 

The  still  eyes  of  the  pale  Queen  of  Hades, 

She  who  rules  all  men's  hearts  forever 

After  they  are  dead  and  have  forgotten 

All  the  queens  of  love  and  earthly  hours, 

And  remember  her  alone  and  love  her, 

With  a  dead  love  that  is  most  undying, 

As  all  lovers,   fevered  and  exhausted, 

Love  the  death  which  makes  them  calm  for  always. 

And  the  King,  who  was  a  living  lover, 

Knew  that  he  would  love  her  dead,  and  trembled. 

And  he  trembled  while  her  eyes  were  on  him. 

Then  the  Queen's  great  voice  said:     " Rhampsinitos, 

Since  you  are  a  mortal,  not  my  lover, 

Since  you  come  alive  to  gaze  upon  me 

Whom  you  will  know  in  the  long  hereafter, 

Now,  my  guest,  be  seated  here  and  tell  me 

All  the  hope  and  yearning  that  is  in  you." 

And  when  he  had  told  her  all,  she  answered: 

"  Dare  you  risk  so  much  upon  the  chances? 

Dare  you  hope  to  win  so  much  upon  them? 

Be  it  even  so,  if  so  you  wish  it. 

You  may  go  hence  with  the  wealth  of  Hades 

And  have  won  a  life  on  earth  forever; 

You  may  go  hence  even  as  you  came  here ; 

And  you  may  depart  a  king  no  longer 

And  a  mortal  with  no  life  hereafter. 

That  which  is  to  be  the  dice  will  tell  you." 

And  they  sat  among  the  burning  braziers, 


12  RHampsinitos 

In  the  vastness  of  the  jewelled  palace, 

With  the  leaden  light  upon  their  faces, 

Watched  each  other,  threw  the  dice,  and  wagered. 


IV 


Pelteh,  the  groom,  declared  it  was  a  shame 

The  way  the  stable  contracts  fell  that  year. 

His  cousin  was  a  better  harness-maker 

Than  any  in  the  capital,  and  yet, 

Although  he  had  bid  low,  he  did  not  get 

One  single  contract ;  and  the  men  who  did 

Skimped  their  work  shamelessly,  and  got  full  pay, 

All  the  awards  were  by  rank  favoritism, 

And  the  inspection  was  a  perfect  farce, 

So  that  the  harness,  although  it  was  handsome, 

Wore  out  in  no  time,  and  its  cleaning  gave 

No  end  of  trouble ;  why,  the  very  yoke 

They  'd  used  that  night  was  absolutely  botched, 

And  it  was  stuffed  with  some  cheap,  worthless  padding 

Unfit  for  any  decent  noble's  stable, 

Much  less  the  King's.     The  hostler  said  't  was  true ; 

And,  in  the  purchasing  of  feed,  the  like 

Was  usual.     The  barley  had  been  bought, 

By  the  connivance  of  the  overseer, 

Of  a  rich  cousin  of  the  butcher's  wife — 

Who  was  the  overseer's  friend,  perhaps 

More  than  his  friend.     It  was  up  to  the  samples; 

Yes,  it  was  perfect  barley,  but  the  price 

Was  most  outrageous.     As  for  the  promotions, 

Not  only  in  the  stable-force,  but  also 

In  all  the  household  of  the  worthy  King 


Kliampsinitos  13 

Not  one  was  for  real  merit.     Wire-pulling 

And  bribery  and  favor  did  it  all. 

And  here  the  other  two  chimed  in,  all  three 

Talking  at  once  of  the  quite  grievous  way 

Their  talents  had  not  gotten  recognition, 

" Although,  of  course,"  the  officer  went  on, 

"If  the  King  knew,  't  would  all  be  managed  right, 

No  sort  of  blame  attaches  to  the  King, 

It  would  be  treason  even  to  hint  that : 

It  is  his  underlings  that  do  him  wrong 

And  go  against  his  orders:"  and  the  others 

Gave  an  assent  emphatic  as  't  was  quick. 


Silent  was  the  Queen,  the  monarch  silent, 
And  monotonously  from  the  dice-box 
Fell  the  dice,  monotonously  clicking, 
Till,  unto  the  ears  of  Rhampsinitos 
It  appeared  as  if  the  columns  echoed 
Every  click,  however  faint  it  sounded. 
And  the  flowing  of  his  blood  environed 
All  his  senses  with  a  steady  booming 
Like  the  flow  of  subterranean  water. 
He  had  wagered  all  his  mighty  jewels, 
And  the  Queen  the  half  of  Hades'  treasure, 
And  the  King  had  won.     Upon  the  next  throw 
He  had  won  the  whole  of  Hades'  treasure. 
He  had  lost  it,  lost  his  own,  his  cattle, 
Lost  his  armies,  lost  his  fleet,  his  kingdom, 
Wagered  his  own  soul,  won  back  his  kingdom, 
Won  his  fleet,  won  back  again  his  losses, 


14  RHampsinitos 

Won  all  Hades'  treasure,  staked  it  wholly 

On  one  throw  against  a  life  forever 

For  himself  on  earth,  a  man  and  living. 

He  had  won  it,  and  the  Queen's  great  eyelids 

Gently  brushed  her  pale  cheeks  with  their  lashes, 

For  he  did  not  sigh  nor  laugh  nor  triumph. 

"Is  it  all,  and  is  it  not  sufficient? 

Is  there  anything  beyond  you  wish  for 

Rhampsinitos?     Will  you  risk  a  wager 

Still,  for  anything,  who  have  won  thus  much? 

If  you  wish  to,  speak,  the  time  is  passing." 

And  the  King,  his  cheeks  aflush  with  triumph, 

Gripped  the  dice-box  with  his  mighty  fingers, 

And  his  breath  came  hard,  and  he  was  silent. 

But  her  eyes  still  questioned,  and  he  answered: 

"Yea,  O  Queen,  and  could  I  live  forever, 

And  alone,  and  loveless,  and  without  her? 

Could  I  take  delight  in  any  living 

Even  now,  if  I  were  always  certain 

I  must  live  on  earth,  when  she  had  left  it? 

But  we  two,  we  two,  a  life  eternal 

Were  but  short  for  us  in  earth  or  heaven ! ' ' 

And  the  great  Queen,  laughing  low,  made  answer: 

"  Shall  it  not  be  so  with  men  forever? 

You  have    planned    and   watched    and    fought   and 

labored, 

You  have  hungered,  suffered  thirst  and  sickness, 
Mired  thick  your  chariot-wheels  with  carnage : 
And,  when  you  behold  how  great  the  task  is 
That  your  soul  is  bent  on,  when  the  knowledge 
That  a  man's  life  is  too  short  for  triumph 
Even  in  a  safe  and  ordered  kingdom, — 


RKampsinitos  15 

Much  too  brief  for  stable  foreign  conquest— 

When  this  knowledge  makes  you  well-nigh  hopeless ; 

And  when,  after  you  have  won  a  lifetime 

Long  as  all  the  length  of  all  the  ages, 

Wherein  you  may  fight,  and  scheme,  and  labor 

To  make  all  the  earth  a  larger  Egypt, 

When  your  immortality  is  certain 

And  you  have  a  wealth  no  man  can  equal, 

All  these  prizes  seem  but  baby  baubles 

If  you  lack  the  smiling  of  one  woman! 

Wager  then,  my  stake  is  what  you  wish  for." 

And  the  monarch  staked  his  life  eternal, 

Staked  the  life  that  he  so  much  had  longed  for, 

Staked  the  life  that  he  had  won  so  hardly, 

And,  his  eyes  aglow  with  hope  and  fervor, 

His  lips  parted  in  anticipation, 

Threw  the  dice,  and  leaned  to  hers  to  count  them. 


VI 


It  was  past  midnight  now ;  they  all  had  slept 
And  waked  again,  and  talked,  and  dozed  yet  more, 
And  then  talked  afterward.     Pelteh  went  on: 
"It  is  n't  that  I  do  find  fault  with  life; 
It  seems,  somehow,  I  can't  express  myself, 
Perhaps  I  lack  the  education  for  it. 
Maybe  you  know,  Sir,  what  I  want  to  say, 
And  could  express  it.     I  can't  get  it  out." 
The  officer,  much  flattered,  cleared  his  throat, 
And  said:     "I  think  I  know  just  what  you  mean. 
I  think  you  feel,  as  all  of  us  must  feel, 
How  much  the  world  has  fallen  off  in  flavor 


1 6  RHampsinitos 

Since  the  old  times  we  like  to  hear  about. 

We  have  no  men  like  our  old  fighting  heroes. 

War  has  become  a  trade.     A  modern  soldier 

Is  very  little  better  than  a  clerk 

Engrossing  documents  in  a  law-office. 

We  fight,  but  all  the  soldiers  are  machines 

Wholly  controlled  by  their  superiors. 

There  is  no  room  for  heroism  there, 

And  if  there  is  no  heroism  in  war, 

Where  in  the  world  will  you  find  any  at  all  ? 

All,  great  men  and  the  rabble,  poor  and  rich, 

Feel  something  like  this.     In  the  good  old  days 

Farming  was  an  idyllic  occupation, 

Full  of  romance  and  poetry,  but  now 

It  is  a  trade  like  any  other  trade. 

Egypt  was  once  a  land  of  gods  and  heroes ; 

Now  we  are  just  a  herd  of  priests  and  nobles, 

Warriors,  tradesmen,  laborers,  and  beggars, 

Who,  all  alike,  eat,  sleep,  and  drink,  and  worship, 

And  die,  like  cattle,  unheroic  deaths. 

The  world  is  getting  old  and  men  degenerate ; 

The  nobles  some  go  down  and  upstarts  some, 

Out  of  the  rabble,  to  fill  up  their  places. 

It  was  not  so  of  old,  then  every  man 

Lived  out  his  life  in  his  own  proper  station, 

And  found  variety  and  spice  in  life ; 

Now  'tis  all  changed."     "I  see,"  said  Pelteh,  sadly, 

Checking  a  full-fed  yawn,  "I  understand  you. 

In  the  old  days  I  should  have  found  a  groomship 

A  life  full  of  delight :  now  it  seems  sordid 

And  mean.     And  in  the  old  days,  too,  you  would 

Have  found  a  captaincy  far  more  delightful 


RHampsinitos  17 

Than  a  full  generalship  would  seem  to-day. 

The  fault  is  not  in  either  of  us,  only 

The  times  are  to  be  blamed;  they  're  dull  and  tame." 

"  Exactly  so,"  replied  the  officer. 

And  the  lean  hostler  scratched  his  head  and  thought. 


VII 


Losing,  winning,  losing,  and  then  winning, 

Still  the  dice,  that  mocked  him,  never  gave  him 

Mastery  of  an  undying  manhood, 

And  a  deathless  love  to  make  it  blessed. 

And  it  seemed  to  him  his  lips  and  teeth  were 

Now  no  more  apart,  but  grown  together 

Like  the  edges  of  a  wound  in  healing. 

As  he  diced,  he  wondered  could  he  utter 

Any  speech  again,  or  was  the  power, 

Of  all  utterance  gone  from  him  for  always. 

The  Queen's  forehead,  white  above  her  eyebrows 

In  the  leaden  light,  he  kept  his  eyes  on, 

For  he  dared  not  meet  her  eyes  directly. 

Then  the  leaden  lights  appeared  to  waver. 

To  his  fancy  their  flames  seemed  to  rustle ; 

The  thick  sweat  was  chilly  on  his  temples ; 

He  threw  many  throws  and  won  no  longer. 

Then  he  said:     "I  have  no  more  to  wager!" 

And  his  own  voice  startled  him  with  wonder. 

And  the  great,  calm  Queen  replied  unto  him: 

"Is  there  no  one  on  the  earth  who  loves  you 

With  a  love  so  great  your  ears  have  heard  her 

Say  her  soul  is  yours  alone,  forever?" 

"  Yea!"  the  King  replied,  his  pulses  roaring. 


i8  RHampsinitos 

"Wager,  then,  that  soul,"  the  Queen  made  answer, 

"  Since  it  is  your  own,  and  you  may  use  it 

As  it  pleases  you,  now  and  forever." 

Slowly  and  with  awe  he  said:     "I  cannot!" 

"  Then  the  earth  will  never  more  behold  you 

After  one  more  sunset,"  said  Demeter, 

"And  you  have  no  life  to  live  hereafter." 

And  the  great  King  answered  her,  unsobbing 

But  his  body  numb  with  fear  and  anguish, 

"I  will  stake  it."     And  she  made  her  wager. 

Thrice  the  King  won,  thrice  again  his  losses 

Brought  him  to  that  last  unwilling  wager. 

Then  his  winnings  followed  fast  each  other 

Till  he  had  won  back  his  losses  wholly, 

Won  and  lost  again  the  wealth  of  Hades. 

Then  the  Queen,  the  gold  dice  in  her  fingers, 

Paused  and  listened,  shook  her  head,  and  dropped  them, 

Saying:     "  You  must  cease.     The  time  is  over. 

You  must  go  back  to  your  earth  and  kingdom. 

Nothing  have  you  lost  and  have  won  nothing, 

Yet  have  tasted  what  no  man  has  known  of 

Living,  save  yourself.     Behold  I  give  you, 

For  a  token  of  your  noble  courage, 

This  gold  napkin,  marvellously  woven. 

Take  it,  and  depart,  and  peace  go  with  you." 

VIII 

Toward  morn  the  men,  who  dared  not  keep  asleep, 
And  were  not  able  to  keep  broad  awake, 
Talked  gossip  between  naps,  and  groomed  the  horses ; 
Ate  the  remaining  lunch  that  they  had  brought, 


RHampsinitos  19 

And  drank  the  last  of  their  small  stock  of  wine. 

And  after  much  conjecture  of  one  scandal — 

Which  was  the  talk  of  all  the  court  that  month — 

As  they  felt  quite  good  friends  by  now,  they  came 

To  guessing  their  lord's  nocturnal  errand, 

And  who  the  lady  was  he  came  to  meet, 

And  how  she  got  there.     And  the  officer 

Observed:  "As  I  remarked  a  short  while  back, 

Our  days  are  nothing  if  not  commonplace. 

The  King  of  the  most  mighty  of  all  nations, 

With  a  good  wife  he  ought  to  love,  can  find, 

In  spite  of  all  his  state-craft  and  war-levies, 

No  better  way  to  pass  his  time  than  this, 

To  meet  some  good  man's  worthless  wife  in  secret. 

Could  there  be  anything  more  unromantic, 

Matter-of-fact,  and  humdrum  than  all  this? 

And  what  must  be  the  state  of  all  the  nation, 

If  the  King,  even,  cannot  be  a  hero 

Not  because  he  's  himself  and  not  a  hero,' 

But  because  modern  times  are  unheroic. 

He  would  not  seem  a  hero  if  he  were  one." 


IX 


All  the  stars  had  vanished,  save  to  westward 
Where  one  hung  above  the  purple  desert. 
Under  it  the  haze  was  dun  and  reddish, 
And  the  nearer  sand  was  brown  and  even. 
Southwardly  the  hills  arose  behind  them, 
And  to  the  northward  other  hills,  their  fellows, 
Loomed  disruptedly,  blue,  gray,  and  rosy. 
Eastward  the  horizon,  steely-colored, 


20  RHampsinitos 

Sundered  the  clear,  hueless  sky  above  it 
From  the  yellow  desert,  waxing  brighter. 
The  vast  river,  flowing  in  its  hollow, 
Was  beyond  the  reach  of  any  vision : 
From  beyond  it  still  the  daylight  flooded 
Into  the  clear  air,  with  an  increasing 
Volume  and  an  ever  quickening  outpour. 
As  the  sun  arose,  the  watchers  turned  them. 
And,  from  out  the  dim,  sand-paven  cavern, 
Rhampsinitos  staggered,  racked  and  shaken, 
With  blue  lips  and  hollow  cheeks  and  ashen, 
Clutching  in  his  hands  a  royal  napkin 
Wrought  of  cloth  of  gold,  and  strangely  woven. 
Though  his  eyes  were  terrorless  and  thoughtful 
They  beheld  as  a  strange,  novel  vision 
The  cool  brilliance  of  the  morning  sunlight. 


TALITH. 

(Trochaic  Trimeters.) 

WHEN  a  king  or  queen  or  prince  had  died  in  Egypt, 
Or  when  death  had  taken  any  royal  being, 
After  hope  wa's  gone  and  Egypt's  loss  was  certain 
Then  the  servants  of  the  dead  enrobed  the  body 
In  the  costliest  and  loveliest  adornments ; 
Lavished  on  it  all  the  stuffs  that  earth  afforded 
The  most  precious ;  all  the  gems  of  the  regalia ; 
Placed  it  on  a  catafalque  of  sable  velvet 
•Tufted  over  with  amazing  sombre  jewels; 
And  it  lay  until  the  stroke  of  the  next  midnight, 
'Mid  the  flickering  of  perfume-laden  cressets, 
In  the  chilly  mourning-chapel  of  the  palace. 
Then  the  washers  of  the  dead  arrived  to  claim  it, 
And  disrobed  it  of  all  decking  and  possessions, 
And  't  was  washed  and  counted  with  unroyal  corpses. 
And,  thereafter,  cunning  journeymen  embalmed  it 
Till,  inside  its  triple  gilded  cedarn  coffins, 
It  was  laid  within  the  rock-tombs  of  the  rulers. 

In  the  chapel  all  the  cressets  were  on  fire, 
But  the  mourners  all  save  one  had  long  departed, 
For  the  Queen  of  Rhampsinitos,  King  of  Egypt, 
Lay  there  silent, and  he  watched  hisdead  and  sorrowed. 

21 


22  TalitK 

He  beheld  the  fretted  crown,  how  it  became  her; 
How  her  forehead  was  like  wax  against  the  metal ; 
How  the  glossy  single  braid  of  raven  tresses 
Showed  behind  her  tiny  ear-shell,  white  and  waxen; 
How  her  throat  was  smothered  in  the  heaps  of  jewels ; 
How  the  silk  and  fine  embroidered  robe  was  lifted 
By  her  breasts,  like  carven  blocks  or  desert  boulders ; 
How  there  was  not  any  flowing  in  her  outline, 
But  the  form  was  suddenly  a  thing  eternal 
As  the  end  of  all  her  whims  and  veering  fancies, 
Which  had  always  kept  him  glad  with  new  perfections. 
And  he  marked  the  fringe  of  silk  and  twisted  bullion, 
And  the  queenly  little  feet  that  showed  below  it ; 
And  it  startled  him  to  see  them  pink  no  longer, 
But  as  gray  as  a  cold  sunset's  final  ashes. 
In  the  growing  night  he  paced  the  chilly  chapel 
And  his  thoughts  were  like  an  army  in  a  sand-storm, 
When  there  is  not  any  man  dare  flee,  nor  any 
Dare  advance,  or  dare  retreat  or  plan  to  face  it. 
He  bethought  him  how  the  night  was  sweeping  onward, 
How  the  hours  wherein  he  might  do  her  honor 
Were  to  pass,  and  she  be  one  of  Egypt's  corpses, 
And  a  number  in  their  designating  numbers, 
But,  till  in  her  coffin — never  to  be  opened, 
Nor  be  added  to  nor  altered  nor  amended — • 
She  would  be  a  reachless  wish,  a  nameless  absence 
And  he  blamed  himself  that  all  his  mighty  treasures 
Were  not  heaped  upon  the  floor  for  her  to  rest  on. 
And  he  counted  all  the  jewels  there  about  her, 
Lest  some  one  had  been  omitted  and  forgotten, 
But  there  was  not  one  of  all  that  he  beheld  not. 
Then  he  thought  how,  in  his  privatest  of  treasures, 


TalitH  23 

Lay  the  napkin  he  had  won  at  dice  in  Hades 
When  he  played  there  with  the  Queen  of  the  departed, 
And  had  risked  and  lost  his  soul,  and  had  rewon  it. 
And  he  passed  the  hanging  curtains  of  the  portal ; 
Passed  the  guards  that  stood  as  mute  as  tongueless 

statues ; 

Took  the  napkin  from  the  casket  in  his  vaulted 
Crypt  that  no  man  save  himself  might  ever  enter ; 
And  repaced  the  corridors  and  moonlit  porches 
To  the  chapel,  empty  ever  since  he  left  it. 
For  he  felt  this  was  the  dearest  of  his  treasures 
And  most  hardly  won  of  all  that  he  had  gathered, 
And  he  bore  it  to  her  that  she  might  be  honored 
With  all  honor  that  the  King  could  spend  or  lavish. 
And  he  laid  it  on  the  catafalque  beside  her, 
For  he  felt  his  heart  was  weakening  within  him, 
And  he  thought:   "I  could  not  watch  the  washers 

strip  her 

As  the  law  is  which  the  gods  will  have  accomplished." 
Therefore  he  resolved  to  spread  the  precious  napkin 
For  a  face-cloth  on  her  face  when  last  he  kissed  it, 
And  depart  and  meet  his  lonely  life  and  joyless 
Duty  to  his  subject  lands  till  death  should  take  him. 
And  he  marvelled  at  her  slender  girlish  fingers 
Loaded  now  with  ancient  rings  of  countless  value; 
And  he  knew  not  was  this  grief  or  was  it  stupor, 
For  he  felt  a  dull  and  heavy  self-effacement. 
Then  the  harsh  horn  at  the  gateway  of  the  palace 
Grated  out  a  dry  and  rasping  note  of  warning, 
And  he  knew  the  washers  of  the  dead  were  coming, 
Though  afar  off  in  the  miles  of  pillared  palace. 
Then  he  kissed  his  lost  love's  lips,  and  laid  the  napkin 


24  TalitH 

On   her   face,   and   sobbed   and   rose   with    firm-set 

shoulders, 
For  he  knew  his  life  was  done  except  his  duties. 

But  he  had  not  gone  a  pace  before  he  halted, 

Cried  a  great  cry  to  the  tapestries  and  panels 

Of  the  gilded  and  nail-studded  level  ceiling, 

For  he  thought  he  heard  her  voice,  and  feared  and 

trembled. 
Then    he    turned,  and    she    was   striving   with   her 

wrappings, 
And  he  gasped  and  wept  and  laughed  and  rent  the 

priceless 

Webs  of  silk  and  chains  of  gold  and  massive  jewels, 
For  he  saw  he  was  not  mad,  that  she  was  living. 
And  her  arms  were  round  his  neck,  and  to  his  kisses 
She  responded  with  the  fervor  of  her  girlhood. 
And  they  clung  together  silently,  and  shivered. 
Then    she    spoke,  and    in   her    throat   her    speaking 

fluttered: 

"O  my  King,  my  only  love,  my  precious  husband, 
I  was  dead  and  stood  before  the  gate  of  Hades, 
And  the  guardians  bade  me  enter  in  unburied, 
And  the  Queen  received  me  on  her  throne  of  silver, 
And  she  told  me  dreadful  Hades  could  not  claim  me 
Till  the  hours  had  gone  by,  until  the  midnight. 
For  if  Neith,  who  is  the  giver  of  all  wisdom, 
Should   be  pleased  to  move  your   heart  to  use   the 

napkin 
Which  the  Queen  of  Hades  gave  you  when  you  left 

her, 
Then  I  might  return  again  into  my  body. 


or  THE 
UNIVERSITY 

OF         ^       x 

TalitH  25 

For  it  was  for  this  she  gave  to  you  the  token 
Which  is  magical  to  wake  the  dead  it  touches, 
Since  she  saw  you  loved  me  truly  well  and  wholly, 
And  she  wished  that  I  might  live  until  fate  took  us 
Both  together  into  night  that  has  no  morning." 
And  they  shuddered  and  rejoiced  and  clung  together 
Till  the  Queen  fell  back  again  and  gasped  and  fainted. 
Rhampsinitos  tore  the  close  gigantic  curtains 
From  the  latticed  southern  window  of  the  chapel, 
And  the  night- wind  and  the  moonlight  flooded  inward. 
Then  he  broke  the  ropes  of  pearls  and  clasps  of  rubies 
That,     encumbering     her     throat,     restrained    her 

breathing, 

And  he  scattered  far  her  armlets,  rings,  and  girdle, 
Loosing  all  the  silken  robes  about  her  body 
Till  the  desert  wind  upon  her  brow  and  bosom 
Woke  her,  and  she  stirred  and  panted  and  recovered. 

When  the  washers  of  the  dead  and  guards  behind  them 
Entered  in,  they  saw  the  monarch  who  was  kneeling. 
And  it  seemed  that  he  was  raving,  for  the  cerements 
Of  the  corpse  were  rent  and  scattered  and  the  jewels 
Lay  in  gushes  of  bright  hues  upon  the  pavement, 
And  he  held  her  body  raised,  his  arms  about  it, 
And  the  moonlight  and  the  glare  of  leaping  cressets 
Fell  upon  them,  red  and  white,  and  both  together. 
And  the  priests  broke  out  in  whispered  prayers  and 

praises, 
Of  the  gods,  because  they  saw  that  she  was  living. 


EGLON  AND  EHUD. 

(JUDGES  iii.,  12-20.) 

BEFORE  the  raids  and  ravagings  began, 
Ehud  came  often  to  my  father's  house, 
And  there  we  played  and  prattled,  boy  and  girl, 
And  I  delighted  in  his  frank,  dark  face, 
And  he  was  near  me  most  of  all  the  maids. 

During  the  desultory  fights  and  wars, 
I  saw  him  often  armed  among  the  rest, 
And  sometimes,  going  out  or  coming  in, 
We  greeted  briefly,  or  exchanged  a  word; 
It  seemed  to  me  his  eyes  dwelt  long  on  mine. 

Then,  when  his  home  was  threatened  more  than  ours, 

I  saw  him  seldom;  later  not  at  all. 

He  was  not  with  us  on  the  dreadful  day 

When  Moab  sacked  our  city  in  revenge 

For  what  I  know  not,  and  I  was  enslaved. 

After  my  capture,  I  was  treated  well 
Not  sold  nor  chaffered  for,  but  set  apart 
Among  the  captain's  spoils,  and  presently 
Picked  out  from  them  with  slim,  deft- fingered  girls 
To  serve  as  maidens  round  the  lazy  king. 

26 


Eglon  and  EKxid  27 

The  war  was  without  truce;  no  man  survived 
On  either  side  from  any  fight  or  siege ; 
Women  and  boys  were  kept  if  they  were  liked, 
But  all  grown  men  were  butchered  ruthlessly, 
Our  men  as  rebels,  Moab's  in  retort. 

As  the  time  passed,  I  heard  of  victories; 
Knew  Israel  was  losing  everywhere ; 
And  how  indeed  could  it  be  otherwise 
After  so  long  a  servitude,  since  most 
Felt  the  revolt  was  hopeless  when  begun? 

Not  that  our  warriors  were  too  weak  or  few, 
Or  Moab's  men  too  many  or  too  skilled, 
Numbers  and  spirits  were  on  either  side; 
But  our  men  needed  some  one  glorious  chief, 
Keen-souled,  quick-handed,  famed  for  some  great  deed. 

The  Moabites  were  chieftained  by  a  score, 

All  of  whose  thoughts  were  Eglon's:  he,  at  home, 

Guzzling   iced   drinks,   pampered,   bathed,   fruit-fed, 

fanned, 

Heard  all  reports  in  silence,  slept  long  sleeps, 
And  spoke  his  mind  after  a  day's  delay. 

Then  from  the  cool,  jalousied  portico 
Where  he  passed  days  on  his  grass-stuffed  divan 
We  women  saw  some  one  lean  chief  come  forth, 
His  lips  shut  on  the  whispers  he  had  heard, 
With  sparkles  of  success  deep  in  his  eyes. 

And,  after  each  long  guarded  interview 
Of  one  alone  with  Eglon,  back  he  came, 


28  Eglon  and  EHxid 

Dust  on  his  gilded  armor,  without  wound, 

Leading  an  undiminished  regiment, 

And  with  them  wagons  bursting  with  their  spoils. 

So  Israel  and  Moab  knew  full  well 
That  were  it  brother,  nephew,  favorite, 
Uncle,  or  son  who  led  and  struck  the  blow, 
The  brain  was  Eglon's  and  from  him  alone 
Came  Moab's  strength  and  Israel's  despair. 

Our  men  had  gathered  downward  from  the  hills, 
And  thronged  the  walled  towns  nearest  the  frontier, 
Afraid  to  yield  or  to  disperse  toward  home, 
Lest  they  be  utterly  destroyed  thereby, 
And  fearing  bitterly  to  keep  at  war. 

Rumors  were  bandied  back  and  forth,  of  doubt, 
Of  yielding,  of  surrender:  Eglon's  eyes 
Were  lidded  close,  showing  like  narrow  slits. 
He  had  long  conferences  with  his  chiefs, 
Young  warriors  and  graybeards  from  the  town. 

I  brought  them  drink  or  water  for  their  hands, 
Knocked  ere  I  entered,  walked  to  where  they  sat, 
Saw  all  eyes  watch  me  as  I  came  and  went, 
But  heard  no  utterance  from  any  one, 
And  least  the  King :  so  all  the  other  maids. 

And  yet  some  spoke  of  hearing  what  was  said, 
Falsely  or  truly,  all  reports  alike, 
The  young  men  were  for  war,  the  old  for  war, 
Eglon  in  doubt,  saying  the  spoil  was  less 
Than  the  old  tribute ;  less  and  less  worth  while. 


Eglon  and  EH\id  29 

Then  came  a  story  how  men  of  each  side 
Stood  by  the  huge  carved  granite  images 
That  are  near  Gilgal,  shouting  from  afar, 
And  so  conferring,  for  each  justly  feared 
To  come  to  talking  distance  and  converse. 

Then  we  saw  several  captains  with  black  brows, 
Scowling  and  glum,  saw  elders  stroking  beards, 
And  after  heard  the  terms  called  in  the  court, 
We  peering  through  the  lattice  in  the  dusk, 
For  they  were  cried  at  evening  in  the  town. 

Upon  the  morrow  truce  was  to  prevail ; 
No  Moabite  should  pass  the  images 
Opposite  Gilgal — there  was  set  the  bound ; 
One  party  might  advance  from  Israel 
With  presents,  and  beg  mercy  from  the  king. 

And  it  was  stipulated  rigidly 
That  but  one  party  might  transgress  the  line, 
And  they  but  once ;  oaths  were  to  be  exchanged 
That  they  would  come  and  go  without  deceit 
As  without  peril,  but  not  any  more. 

On  the  next  morning  we  were  all  bedecked 
In  silks  and  jewels,  sentries  stalked  about, 
Splendid  with  costly  trappings ;  majesty 
And  might  were  limned  in  every  least  detail 
So  that  the  embassy  might  dread  and  yield. 

The  envoys  came  on  foot,  severely  clad, 

Muffled  in  white,  slow-paced  beneath  their  loads, 

With  downcast  eyes ;  I  looked  at  them  with  shame, 


3°  Eglon  and  EHxid 

Then  gasped  and  reddened,  whitening  to  the  bone 
To  see  my  Ehud  lead  them  thus  abased. 

The  king  received  them  in  the  public  hall, 
Pillared  and  tiled,  with  lattices  of  stone, 
Milk-white  and  fretted  into  pattern-work ; 
And  there  they  laid  their  packs  aside  and  stood 
Mute  in  a  circle,  Ehud  in  the  midst. 

The  king  was  brief,  spoke  of  the  gifts  with  scorn. 

Said  he  accepted  them,  they  had  no  better. 

If  the  old  tribute  be  paid  up  in  full 

And  from  henceforward,  peace  should  be  declared. 

Otherwise  war,  it  was  for  them  to  choose. 

Ehud  replied;  spoke   soothingly.     The  terms, 
He  said,  were  hard,  yet  they  accepted  them; 
Asked  ten  days  to  disperse  in,  and  disarm 
The  young  irreconcilables ;  from  then 
The  gatherers  of  the  tax  might  safely  come. 

Then  Eglon's  manner  changed ;  he  called  for  slaves 

To  bear  away  the  bales ;  called  servitors 

To  wash  his  loyal  subjects'  dusty  feet; 

Then  summoned  us  to  lave  their  hands  and  bring 

Cool  drinks  and  fruits  and  honey-cakes  for  all. 

Ehud  was  seated  opposite  the  king. 

It  fell  to  me  to  hand  to  him  the  drink. 

He  had  not  recognized  me  in  the  throng, 

And,  when  he  saw  me,  his  eyes  flared  with  love 

And  pity,  so  my  weak  hand  spilled  the  wine. 


Eglon  and  EHiid  31 

The  king  just  grunted;  signed  me  to  step  near; 
Cuffed  at  my  middle  with  his  pudgy  hand, 
And  bade  me,  as  I  gasped  between  my  tears, 
Stand  to  one  side  among  the  untrained  girls. 
I  leaned  against  a  pillar,  white  for  shame. 

Ehud  gave  me  one  look ;  arose  to  go 
When  the  king  signified  it  was  his  will. 
They  left  the  palace  seeming  satisfied, 
And  I,  escaping  from  my  comrades'  jeers, 
Watched  from  the  roof  toward  Gilgal  as  they  went. 

I  saw  them  pass  the  statues;  saw  that  one 

Tarried ;  then  with  the  royal  officers 

I  saw  the  man  return,  and  knew  from  far 

Ehud,  and  marvelled  what  might  bring  him  back, 

Hoping  all  things,  yet  fearing  most  for  him. 

I  slipped  down  as  he  entered,  saw  him  led 
Into  the  cabinet  which  faced  the  north, 
An  upper  room  next  the  veranda  there, 
Thick-walled  and  doored,  and  lighted  from  above, 
And  saw  all  servants  ordered  thence  away. 

I  listened  next  the  guard-room,  heard  the  talk. 
He  had  declared  that  private  enemies 
Of  his  had  led  the  outbreak ;  he  would  name 
These  to  the  king — his  fellows  must  not  guess. 
They  knew  the  king  so  wished  and  led  him  back. 

Then  I  was  seized  with  disregard  of  life, 
Stole  near  the  cabinet,  found  him  so  obeyed 


32  Eg'lon  and  EKxid 

That  no  one  had  remained  even  on  guard, 
And  then  I  found  a  key-hole  and  peeped  in, 
Saw  Ehud  sitting,  heard  what  each  one  said. 

Eglon  was  on  his  sofa,  lolled  at  length. 

Wine,  fruits,  and  ice  upon  a  tabouret 

Stood  close  beside  him.     He  was  pleased  and  smiled; 

Asked  for  the  names  again  and  licked  his  lips; 

Then  queried  was  there  something  more  to  tell. 

Ehud  arose.     I  saw  his  face  and  gasped : 
"  I  have  a  message  from  the  Lord  our  God," 
He  said,  and  caught  his  gullet  with  one  hand, 
Fumbling  under  his  burnoose  with  his  left, 
Both  straining,  till  the  sofa-framing  creaked. 

Eglon's  loose  robe  came  off;  his  great  gross  thighs 
Had  hairless  patches,  and  were  splotched  with  red. 
His  belly  was  in  folds  to  near  his  knees. 
I  heard  the  rattle  in  his  breathless  throat ; 
Then  saw  the  glitter  of  a  sheathless  blade. 

Fat  as  he  was  his  strength  was  wonderful. 
Ehud  held  on  and  worked  with  skill  and  plan, 
Not  hurried  nor  excited,  watched  his  chance, 
And  drove  the  dagger  at  his  navel  deep 
So  that  it  vanished  inward,  hilt  and  all. 

Then  he  took  both  hands  to  the  blueing  throat; 
Endured  the  buffets  of  the  aimless  hands; 
Set  his  knee  on  the  fluctuating  chest, 
And  held  till  there  was  silence.     Then  he  rose, 
Arranged  his  dress,  and  came  to  where  I  was. 


Eglon  and  ILtvud  33 

The  broad  veranda  was  so  built  and  set 
That  no  one  from  the  courts  or  terraces 
Could  see  into  it,  while  it  gave  a  view 
Afar,  across  the  mountains  and  the  plain, 
Even  to  Gilgal  by  the  watercourse. 

He  set  the  door  wide ;  winced  at  sight  of  me ; 
Then  clasped  me  close,  and  questioned  with  his  eyes: 
"Safe,  safe,"  I  panted,  "maid  among  his  maids. 
But  you  ?    Your  oath !    You  are  forsworn.    Oh  hurry ! 
What  have  you  done !   They  are  coming.  Alas,  alas ! ' ' 

He  chuckled  silently:     "They  will  not  come," 
He  said,  "till  Eglon  calls,  and  I  misdoubt 
But  he  will  keep  good  silence  till  I  win 
Far  beyond  Gilgal.     Listen  now  to  me. 
I  must  be  brief,  and  I  must  tell  you  all. 

"  I  thought  you  killed;  heard  of  your  body  found; 
Came  here  without  ambition  to  submit; 
Had  in  my  heart  no  treachery;  but,  when 
That  cursed  tallow-bladder  struck  at  you, 
The  whole  scheme  flashed  upon  me  in  a  breath. 

"  He  would  have  granted  peace  now  long  ago 
Save  that  our  ringleaders  he  could  not  clutch. 
And,  in  the  hope  of  that,  he  kept  at  war, 
Till,  wearied  by  his  lack  of  revenue, 
He  turned  his  mind  to  peace  as  you  have  seen. 

"  And,  when  you  whimpered,  this  thought  came  to  me, 
With  it  my  plan,  how  I  could  pass  the  bound ; 
Be  set  free  of  my  oath.     I  had  a  sword 

3 


34  Eg'lon  and  EHud 

Ready  for  treachery  to  sell  my  life 
As  dearly  as  might  be ;  I  saw  the  deed. 

"And  so  I  did;  the  sight  of  what  you  bore 

Gave  to  me  craft,  and  gave  me  strength  and  sleight. 

Now  it  remains  to  carry  out  the  best 

Of  my  device.     I  mean  to  rouse  our  men. 

And  sweep  this  horde  of  robbers  to  the  grave. 

"  Slip  out  at  nightfall;  hide  among  the  rocks 
Between  the  three  wild-olives,  near  the  cliff ; 
Wait  there  whatever  happens.     If  I  fall, 
I  shall  set  trusty  eyes  to  seek  foi  you. 
If  I  survive  the  assault,  myself  will  come." 

He  left  me;  went  inside  the  cabinet; 

Barred  all  its  doors;  passed  out  on  the  other  side; 

And  went  his  way  to  Gilgal.     I  could  see 

The  speck  I  took  for  him  pass  the  carved  rocks, 

And  reach  my  people's  camp,  and  still  I  watched. 

I  dared  not  slink  away,  lest  I  be  seen. 

Two  women  came  upon  me  at  the  door. 

Questioned,  I  answered  't  was  at  his  command 

I  came  now  toward  the  dusk;  he  heeded  not 

My  knocking.     "  Hush,"  they  said,  "and  come  away." 

The  night  was  pitchy  dark;  I  found  the  place 
Ehud  had  told  of;  watched  our  men  creep  up; 
Saw  beacons  on  the  hilltops;  heard  the  shouts; 
Beheld  the  palace  fired,  and  the  fight; 
And  knew  our  men  were  vectors  everywhere. 


Eglon  and  EHxicl  35 

Then  came  a  weird  and  unf orgotten  sight : 
Great  fires  were  kindled  at  the  river  fords, 
Reddening  the  shallows  with  their  plenteous  glare, 
So  that  each  ripple  stood  out  visible, 
And  nothing  living  could  keep  hid  at  all. 

And  thus  they  trapped  all  Moabites  who  fled, 
And  butchered  them  at  every  pass  and  ford. 
Before  the  dawn,  my  Ehud  came  to  me, 
And  took  me  home  in  triumph.     Here  I  dwell, 
Beholding  Israel  honored  and  at  peace. 


SHAMGAR. 

And  after  him  was  Shamgar  the  son  of  Anath,  which  slew 
of  the  Philistines  six  hundred  men  with  an  ox-goad:  and  he 
also  delivered  Israel. — JUDGES,  iii.,  31. 


A  HALF-CLAD  mountain  boy,  who  swung  his  goad, 
Trod  lightly  up  the  narrow,  flinty  road, 
Sparing  his  oxen  at  each  steeper  turn. 
Below,  in  choked  rock-clefts,  the  spluttering  burn 
Gurgled  and  churned,  and  the  cart's  rough-hewn  pole 
Creaked  in  the  yoke  with  every  swing  and  roll 
Of  the  slow  hulks  that  drew  it.     From  the  wall, 
That  showed  afar  above,  an  evening  call 
Sank  through  the  windless  interspace,  a  far 
Faint  ghost  of  sound.     There  in  the  east  one  star 
Showed  by  the  towers.     The  western  sky  was  white. 
Below  the  hills  the  pinions  of  the  night 
Covered  the  plain,  save  where  some  water  shone, 
A  mirror  in  the  darkened  space,  alone. 
A  sharp  turn  brought  him  to  a  level  place 
Where  under  close  trees  for  a  little  space 
The  road  clung  to  the  cliff ;  the  branches  made 
An  archway  where  the  sable  shadows  weighed 
Upon  his  eyes.     When  it  was  almost  past, 
A  shade  upon  its  outlet  there  was  cast, 

36 


SHamgar  37 

And  in  the  opening  a.  figure  stood 
Against  the  sky,  framed  by  the  rock  and  wood, 
Like  a  dark  warrior  graven  on  the  field 
Of  a  smooth,  oval,  shining,  silver  shield. 
The  oxen  halted.     Shamgar,  weak  with  fear, 
Leaned  on  the  cart.     The  Philistine,  his  spear 
Levelled,  approached  him,  laughed  with  scornful  joy 
To  see  the  slender,  narrow-shouldered  boy ; 
Gestured;  then  dropped  his  spear-head  to  the  ground, 
While  Shamgar,  trembling,  turned  his  oxen  round. 
And  then,  with  words  he  did  not  understand, 
Shamgar  beheld  him  ask,  with  outstretched  hand, 
The  goad,  and  bid  him  walk  along  before — 
Trusting  the  dread  the  desert  raiders  bore 
To  all  around,  to  keep  the  boy  from  flight. 
A  wave  of  blood  washed  over  his  drowned  sight; 
His  brain  was  stormed  with  hate  and  mastering  fears ; 
And  all  the  deaths  were  yelling  at  his  ears. 
Burning  and  blind,  he  struck  one  random  blow, 
Hopeless  and  maddened,  at  his  towering  foe: 
And  then,  before  his  raging  dread  took  shape 
In  flight,  or  his  thews  loosened  to  escape, 
The  armored  hulk  fell  prone  across  his  path, 
And  wondering  triumph  trampled  out  his  wrath. 
He  snatched  the  slain  man's  dirk,  and,  in  one  leap, 
Between  his  beard  and  gorget  drove  it  deep ; 
And  then,  borne  down  by  rage,  success,  and  fears, 
Fell,  weak  and  limp,  and  struggling  with  his  tears. 
Mastering  himself,  he  rose,  and  from  the  dead 
Stripping  the  corselet,  from  the  shaggy  head 
Pulled  off  the  helmet,  and  almost  with  awe 
Felt  the  crushed  temple-bone  and  glowing,  saw 


38  SHamg;ar 

How  deep  the  blow  had  broken.     On  the  wain 
He  heaped  his  spoils ;  turned  his  slow  beasts  again ; 
Passed  safely  up  the  roadway  to  the  town ; 
Through   gathering    mists   and    shadows   swart   and 

brown ; 

And,  when  the  battered,  grimy  gates  were  wide, 
Passed  in,  with  shouts  of  praise  from  every  side, 
To  greet  the  eyes  of  her  he  hoped  for  bride. 

II 

An  instant  his  heart  ceased  to  beat ;  he  stood  gasping ; 

then  he 
Dashed   forward.     As,  mightily  panting,  he  ran,  he 

could  see 
That  neither  the  house  nor  the  crops  nor  the  stacks 

by  the  barn 
Had  been  fired.     Much  plunder  was  left.     The  tracks 

by  the  tarn 
Were  a  score.     Through  his  home,  in  a  breath,  just  a 

bare  glance  he  took. 
It  was  silent;  no  corpse;  nothing  living.     He  gave 

one  more  look 
At  the  footprints.       No  marks  were  there  there  of 

small,  sandalless  feet. 
His  girdle  he  tightened;  his  cloak  dropped,  and  silent 

and  fleet, 
He  set  off  up  the  face  of  the  hill,  through  the  saplings 

and  brush ; 
Reached  the  crown  of  the  first  in  a  steady,  untiring 

rush; 
There  he  stopped ;  felt  the  ground ;  gazed  about,  and 

looked  backward  and  out 


SHamg'ar  39 

Down  the  slope  and  around  toward  the  plain.    It  was 

here  that  their  scout 
Had  kept  watch  for  his  coming,  and  had  given  warning 

for  flight. 
But  the  path  up  the  rocks  was  untrodden;  by  that 

on  the  right 
The   watcher  had  hurried  to  .join   with   his  mates. 

His  ascent 
He  resumed,  and  from  midday  till  twilight  he  steadily 

went 
Up  the  bare,  broken  hills,  and  crossed  over  the  steep 

craggy  crest, 
After   hours   of   tireless   running,  and    still    without 

rest 
In  the  moonlight  he  dashed  down  through  wooded 

ravines,  tore  through  vines, 
Burst   laboredly   into   low   thickets   or   raced   under 

pines 
On  the  crisp,  polished  floors  of  dry  needles.     Near 

midnight,  at  last 
He  stopped  in  a  slope  of  dense  briars,  and  heavily 

cast 
His  wearied-out  body  on  earth,  and  lay  shaking  and 

weak, 
His  limbs  all  a-quiver  with  heat,  too  exhausted  to 

speak. 
He   lay   still,    he   breathed   slower,    he   listened.     A 

little  below 
The  road  was  all  white  in  the  moon-rays,  and  softly 

and  slow 
In  the  distance  the  patter  of  hoofs  and  the  heavier 

sound 


40  SHamgar 

Of  feet  hastening  and  weary  with  leagues  of  uneven 

hard  ground 
Emerged  faintly  from  out  of  the  silence,  a  whispering 

rhyme 
Of   movement.     He   rose,    breathed   a    prayer   that 

he  had  been  in  time. 
His  goad  in  his  right  hand,  he  crept  near  the  brink 

of  the  bank, 
And   into    the   bushes   and   shadows   he   noiselessly 

sank. 
The  sheep  came  in  sight  and  behind  them  were  two  of 

the  band, 
The  rest  were  ahead  and  among  them  ...  he  tightened 

his  hand. 
The   ragged  and   footsore  marauders,   still   followed 

by  fears 
Of    pursuit    and    recapture,    looked    backward,    all 

trailing  their  spears. 
Their  eyes  on  the  roadway  behind  and  their  minds 

all  a-chafe 

At  the  leagues  yet  before  they  would  reach  the  rock- 
pass  and  be  safe. 
The  brushwood  stirred  somewhat  above  them,   the 

branches  were  rent 
As  though   by  a    huge,   rolling  boulder    a   landslide 

had  sent 
Down  the  slope :  a  dark  form  leapt  the  bank,  and  before 

they  could  know 
What  to  look  for,  the  terrible  goad  had  laid  six  of 

them  low. 
Like  bulrushes  broke  at  its  blows  the  long  shafts 

of  their  spears 


SHamgar  41 

As  they  set  on  him,  dazed  and  made  slow  by  the  clog 

of  their  fears. 
The  drivers  behind  the  checked  flock  heard  the  cry: 

"It  is  he!" 
And  turned  back  without  looking,  all  breathless  and 

silent,  to  flee. 
The  two  that  had  guard  of  the  woman  found  all  of 

their  strength 
Would  not  hold  her,  and  now  there  were  eight  who 

lay  writhing  at  length 
With  limbs  broken,  or,  still,  with  crushed  skulls  in 

the  gravelly  road, 
And  unwounded  he  stood,  and  whirled  round  him  the 

terrible  goad. 
Their  leader,  girt  on  with  a  sword,  set  upon  him,  and 

he 
Fell  also,  his  bones  crushed  and  rent  at  the  joint  of 

the  knee. 
The  cravens  fell  back  at  the  sight,  and  the  ill-fated 

pair, 
Struggling  still  with  the  woman,  he  set  on  and  slew 

unaware ; 
In  a  niche  in  the  rock  she  crouched  cowering  behind 

him.     The  swell 
Of  his  blood  was  aflame  with  success,  and  his  mighty 

blows  fell 
More  surely;  his  vast  sable  beard  hardly  stirred  in 

the  wind, 
And  the  raiders,  still  snarling  and  fierce,  but  their 

band  sadly  thinned, 
Pressed  round   him,  ashamed   to  give   way  to   one 

unaided  foe, 


42  SHamgar 

Each  unwilling  to  be  first  to  flee,  and  all  longing  to 

go- 
His  eyes  flashed  in  the  moonlight;  his  height  seemed 

to  grow;  they  were  awed 
By  the  girth  of  the  man;  and  his  shoulders  seemed 

wondrously  broad. 
The  bravest  ran  under  his  guard;  pierced  his  thigh; 

but  the  rest 
Stood  aghast  when  one  blow  crushed  in  the  ribbed 

arch  of  his  chest. 
He  dashed  in  among  them;  one  dropped,  his  jaw 

broken,  and  one 
Reeled   back   with   an   arm    dangling   helpless;   the 

fighting  was  done. 
All  turned  them  and  fled,  some  toward  home,  for  their 

lives,  down  the  steep, 
And  a  brace  up  the  road  through  the  midst  of  the 

terrified  sheep. 
Their  steps  died  away  in  the  moon-dusk,  and  he  was 

alone 
With  the  quivering  woman  whose  sobbing  had  sunk 

to  a  moan. 
He  turned,  and  his  arms  were  around  her,  his  face  by 

her  face, 
And  their  love  and  rejoicing  forgot  both  the  time  and 

the  place. 
The  stampeded  sheep  gathered  bleating;  the  rising 

wind  roared ; 
The  wounded  men  groaned  in  the  road;   Shamgar 

searched  for  the  sword; 
Then   the  moanings  were    still.     When   at   last   the 

scared  oxen  were  found, 


SHamgar  43 

He  stripped  off  the  arms  of  the  dead,  and  upon  them 

he  bound 
The  spoils  on  the  heaped  sacks  of  plunder  they  even 

yet  bore; 
The  dead  men  he  counted,  and  sought  in  the  darkness 

for  more. 
The  sheep  and  the  oxen  turned  homeward ;  he  set  out 

to  wend 
The  slow  march  to  the  home  he  had  made,  and  knew 

how  to  defend, 
With  the  wife  he  had  saved  once  again,  his  beloved. 

The  sun  rose; 
And  fifteen  fresh  notches  the  goad  had  to  tell  of 

his  foes. 

in 

Why  are  the  raiders  so  cautious,  and  why  do  they 

Hundreds    together,    .close-marching    and    scouting 

and  slow; 
They  that  ranged  over  the  country  by  couples  and 

threes, 

Laden  with  booty,  wherever  they  found  it  to  seize? 
They  have  been  taught  that  a  score  may  be  scattered 

like  chaff : 
Swords  are  as  glass  to  the  blows  of  a  tough-knotted 

staff. 
Dwellers  that  quaked  in  the  cities,  the  thickest  of 

wall, 
Fight  in  the  open,  when  Shamgar  has  sounded  the 

call. 


44  SHamgar 

They  that  fled  quicker  than  jackals  in  the  earlier 
days 

Fight,  when  he  leads  them,  like  lions  in  hope  of  his 
praise. 

Yea,  and  more  dreaded  than  squadrons  with  serried- 
set  shields 

Shamgar  himself  is  to  all  that  range  woodlands  or 
fields. 

Is  it  the  corpse  of  their  cousin  the  raiders  have 
found  ? 

Crushed  ribs  and  skull  tell  their  tale  to  the  blood- 
sodden  ground. 

Are  their  spies  certain  he  dwells  in  his  homestead 
at  rest? 

Leagues  over  country  that  night  he  slays  one  of  their 
best. 

Is  it  a  warrior  is  missed  from  the  council  or  feast? 

Yea,  then  the  goad  has  one  notch  that  is  freshest, 
at  least. 


IV 


Even  as  he  fell,  a  shout  arose 

From  the  hillside,  and  his  thronging  foes 

Glanced  behind,  and  turned  themselves  and  fled, 

Leaving  all  their  wounded  and  their  dead 

Where  they  fell.     The  rescuers  pursued, 

Fresh  and  fierce  and  eager.     Crimson-hued 

Every  sword  and  spear  was  before  noon, 

And  the  slaughter  ceased  not  till  the  moon 

Sank  into  the  embers  of  the  sun ; 

And  of  those  that  fled  was  left  not  one. 


SHamgar  45 

Hot  and  grim  the  victors  hastened  back, 

Guided  by  their  own  corpse-bordered  track, 

Whereon  none  of  them  had  taken  harm. 

With  the  dawn  they  reached  the  wailing  farm, 

Sixty  henchmen,  woundless  one  and  all, 

And  his  seven  sons,  black-browed  and  tall. 

There  they  found  the  women  on  the  ground, 

With  the  untouched  bodies  all  around. 

And  his  mighty  corpse,  untouched  as  well, 

On  the  sill,  lying  as  he  fell. 

When  rebuked   the   slave- women   replied: 

"  She  is  still  as  though  herself  had  died 

And  we  dared  not  touch  him  save  she  bade, 

We  who  are  not  worthy."     The  sons  made 

With  their  hands  a  bier,  but  when  they  came 

To  uplift  him,  awe  without  a  name 

Froze  their  limbs  and  speech.     For  he  lay  there, 

His  eyes  gazing  without  threat  or  glare, 

His  vast  silver  beard  upon  his  breast, 

Hiding  all  his  wrounds,  as  though  at  rest. 

But  his  right  hand  gripped  the  mighty  goad, 

Whereon  clotted  blood  and  hair  still  showed 

How  it  had  been  wielded,  and  so  tight 

That  the  knuckles  needed  three  men's  might 

To  unlock  them.     Reverently  they  laid 

On  the  bier  his  body,  all  afraid 

As  they  touched  it;  counted  then  the  dead, 

And  the  goad's  old  tale  of  notches  read 

Some  five  hundred  notches  and  threescore, 

And  his  sons  cut  on  it  forty  more. 


THE  LEVITE. 
QUDGES,  xix.,  27.) 

YEA,  I  have  looked  upon  vengeance,  beheld  the 
sword  how  it  smote  them, 
Seen   the  accursed  destroyed  with  their  wives  and 

henchmen  and  tribesmen, 
Till  but  a  handful  were  left  wherein  ran  the  blood 

of  their  people, 
Barely  a  handful,  and  all  of  them  were  assuredly 

guiltless. 
Nevertheless   I    cannot   find   rest   or   peace   for  me 

living, 
Nor  any  troubleless  sleep  till  I  wake  in  the  grave 

from  all  dreaming. 
Still   I   behold,  awake  or  asleep,  the  gore-dripping 

panniers  ; 
Still  my  fingers  creep  with  the  tingling  of  flesh  as  I 

cut  it. 
How  can  I  drop  to  sleep,  when  every  drowsiness 

brings  me, 
Back  to  my  aging  senses,  my  weariness  after  our 

journey? 
What  can  lull  me  to  rest  when  I  feel  again  how  she 

lulled  me? 
Lulled  me  that  very  night  with  tender  words  and 

with  whispers; 

46 


The  Levite  47 

Soothed  me  gently  to  sleep,  her  fingers  cool  on  my 

forehead, 
So  that,  as  a  man  is  aware  in  dreams  of  noises  that 

are  not, 
In   such  wise,   and   no   other,  the   insolent,    riotous 

knocking, 
Thundering   at   the   gates   like   the   hoofs   of   cattle 

stampeded, 
Came  to  my  sleep-walled  ears  like  the  croon  of  waves 

on  the  sea-beach. 
How  can  I  sleep  when  sleep  reminds  me  I  might  have 

wakened ; 
Might  have  wakened,  and  saved  her,  and  kept  her 

living  and  with  me? 
How  can  I  look  on  the  sun  when  I  feel  how  it  rose 

and  beheld  me 
Stunned  and  sunk  in  a  stupor  beside  her  there  on  the 

doorstep  ? 
For  I  awoke  before  dawn  and  found  that  she  was  not 

beside  me. 
Therefore  I  rose  in  haste,  for  I  thought  she  had 

risen  before  me, 
So  that  she  might  prepare  all  things  for  our  early 

departure. 
And,  when  I  opened  the  door,  I  saw  her  sunk  on  the 

threshold 
Dead   and   scarcely  cold,   and  her  rose-leaf   fingers 

were  weakly 
Curled,   like  wilting  petals,  and  fallen  against  the 

woodwork 
On  the  outside  of  the  cruel  door  that  she  could  not 

open. 


48  THe  Levite 

Yea,  and  the  air  was  cool,  and  the  stars  above  us 

were  paling; 
All  the  eastern  sky  was  green  as  a  precious  stone 

is, 
And  the  horizon  warmed  with  crimson  wondrously 

painted. 
Yet  I  cursed  the  sky  and  the  night  and  sleeping  and 

waking. 
How  can  I  live,  and  be  with  these  memories  still  in 

my  keeping? 
How  can  I  sleep  and  forget,  when  I  hear  her  agonized 

crying? 
Hear  in  my  dreams  her  voice  that  calls  in  despair 

and  terror; 
Calls  in  a  turmoil  and  spasm  of  fear  that  cannot 

be  silent; 
Cries  out  because  it  must,  and  struggles  and  yearns 

for  rescue; 
And  yet  smothers  its  crying  with  dread  of  what  may 

befall  me, 
Dread  its  accents  thrill  with,  lest  perchance  I  should 

hear  it. 


BENAIAH. 

Kal  avros   Kare/fy    /cat    €7rara£e    rov    Xeoi/ra    ev  //eVai   TOV 
XO.KKOV    tv    rrj    Tfjjuepa    rfjs    XL^VO<;'  —  H    SAMUEL,  xxiii,    2O. 


WEEKS,  two  weeks,  of  cold  had  dwelt  about  us, 
And  the  mountain  beasts  were  starved  and 

savage. 

All  the  sky  was  slaty  gray  at  sunset 
Save  the  gory-hearted  west  horizon  ; 
And  before  the  night  was  well  upon  us, 
From  the  sad,  uncolumned  vault  a  snowflake 
Fell  into  the  bosom  of  my  sister. 
From  the  windless  sky  the  powdered  feathers 
Sank  straight  down  through  the  unstirred  night-silence 
Till  the  moonless  darkness  was  illumined 
With  a  dusty  and  unearthly  glimmer. 
And  we  doubted  of  Benaiah's  coming, 
For  the  rock  paths  of  the  treeless  mountains 
Grow  impassable  with  icy  glazing; 
And  we  knew  the  leagues  were  surely  slower 
To  traverse,  if  he  should  be  persistent. 
But  my  sister's  eyes  had  no  doubt  in  them, 
While  she  sat  and  gazed  into  the  embers, 
And  her  neck  was  curved  as  if  she  hearkened. 
Slowly,  log  by  log,  the  roaring  fire 
Crumbled  into  coals  half  hid  by  ashes, 
4  49 


50  BenaiaH 

And  my  brothers  rose  up  to  restore  it. 

Then  her  face  changed,  as  if  she  heard  him, 

And  she  loosed  the  bolts  inside  the  doorpost; 

Flung  the  door  wide  with  a  joyful  outcry ; 

And  we  saw,  in  the  uncertain  darkness, 

Two  huge,  glassy,  yellow  eyeballs  shining; 

Heard  the  roar  that  drowned  her  smothered  screaming 

Saw  the  massive,  tawny  shape  above  her, 

All  in  one  half  breath;  and  there  was  nothing 

Save  the  blood-stained  snow  about  the  doorway, 

When  we  dashed  outside  with  brands  and  lances. 

But  our  brands  died  while  the  trail  still  led  us, 

And  we  slunk  home  weeping  in  the  darkness 

Wherein  now  no  snowflakes  were  falling. 

All  night  long  we  sat  awake  and  speechless, 

With  the  doorway  barred,  and  on  the  fire 

Heaps  of  faggots  crackling  and  enkindling, 

While  the  women  wailed  and  mourned  above  us. 

In  the  gray  of  dawn  we  saw  Benaiah 

Striding  through  the  pines  against  the  sky-line, 

On  the  frozen  ravine's  farther  cliff-top. 

None  of  us  dared  face  him,  or  the  love-light 

In  his  yearning  eyes  as  he  approached  us ; 

None  made  any  answer  when  he  questioned, 

Till  a  tiny  girl-child,  weeping,  pointed 

To  the  red  trail  in  the  frozen  snow-crust. 

All  his  face  was  rigid  as  a  dead  man's, 

And  he  strode  away,  his  scabbard  clanking, 

Tramping  in  the  claw-prints ;  but  he  had  not 

Given  any  sign  of  understanding, 

And  his  lips  and  eyes  had  made  no  movement. 

When  we  plucked  up  heart  and  followed  after, 


BenaiaK  51 

We  beheld  him  in  a.  ruined  cistern, 

Full  three  fathoms  deep,  and  walled  with  boulders. 

He  was  sitting  down  collapsed  and  shrunken, 

By  a  something  which  I  blenched  to  look  at. 

The  blown  snow  was  not  so  deeply  drifted 

But  that  we  could  see  in  it  some  fragments, 

Frayed  and  battered,  which  had  been  a  lion. 


DEIOCES. 

AMONG  the  doubtful,  mute  conspirators 
The  youngest  rose  and  spoke:     "The  first  sent 

out 

Has  failed  or  faltered.     Send  another  man 
Who  may  do  better.     Let  us  cast  the  lots ; 
Or,  if  you  all  approve  me,  I  will  try." 
The  oldest  plotter  tugged  his  grizzled  beard, 
And  said:  "The  slave-girl,  our  confederate, 
Is  not  suspected,  and  she  waits  without. 
After  we  hear  the  story  which  she  brings, 
We  shall  be  better  ready  to  decide." 
The  girl  came  in,  not  wholly  at  her  ease 
Among  those  huddled  faces,  row  on  row, 
Crafty  or  fierce,  according  to  their  years. 
She  said:    "  He  entered  as  had  been  agreed. 
The  moon  was  high  among  the  quiet  stars. 
Its  light  was  stencilled  on  the  silent  floors 
A  hand's-breadth  wide  below  the  lattices; 
Enough  of  light  there  was  to  see  his  way, 
Too  little  for  him  plainly  to  be  seen. 
The  King's  slow  breathing  guided  him  along. 
I  could  not  hear  his  foot-falls  as  he  went. 
I  watched  him  till  he  was  beside  the  bed; 
Then  moved  a  trifle  from  the  aperture 

52 


Deioces  53 

That  I  might  truly  swear  I  had  not  seen. 

I  heard  a  stir  and  movement  from  the  bed, 

The  planting  of  two  firm  unhurried  feet. 

I  looked  again.     The  King  was  there,  erect, 

His  right  hand  held  Harbanus  by  the  throat ; 

His  left  hand  gripped  him  by  the  armed  right  wrist. 

He  did  not  sway.     I  could  not  hear  him  breathe. 

Harbanus  writhed  and  presently  let  drop 

The  dagger,  and  it  fell  upon  the  bed 

And  made  no  noise.     The  King  moved  inch  by  inch, 

And  yet  without  an  effort,  as  it  seemed, 

Took  up  the  dagger,  drove  it  firm  and  deep, 

And  then,  as  gently  as  a  father  might 

Lay  in  its  cot  to  rest  his  sleeping  child, 

Lowered  the  body  slowly  to  the  floor. 

I  was  afraid  to  run  or  slink  away, 

And  saw  him  climb  again  into  the  bed, 

Cover  himself,  and  soon  I  heard  him  breathe 

As  evenly  as  early  in  the  night. 

It  was  half  daylight  when  he  called  at  length. 

I  was  among  the  women  of  that  watch, 

And  mingled  with  the  others:     'Send  some  slaves,' 

He  told  us  calmly.     *  Have  them  clean  the  floor.' 

And  then  he  turned  and  slept  or  seemed  to  sleep. 

When  he  arose,  Phraortes,  white  and  tense, 

Asked  why  he  had  not  called  the  palace  guards. 

*  What  need  for  guards  when  I  had  killed  the  fool  ? ' 

His  father  answered  in  his  placid  tones. 

'There  might  have  been  another,'  said  his  son. 

'Well,'  said  the  King,  'and  had  there  been  a  score 

Which  do  you  fancy  they  would  have  preferred, 

To  enter  as  he  did  or  stay  without?'  " 


54  Deioces 

After  the  girl  had  left,  the  plotters  sat, 
Eying  each  other  long,  while  no  man  spoke. 
When  finally  one  warrior  rose  he  said: 
"This  man  we  chose  is  certainly  our  king." 


THE  TITAN. 

BEFORE  young  Jove  harangued  the  clouds, 
Before  Poseidon  trod  the  waves 
And  shook  the  earthquakes  from  their  shrouds, 
Before  Dis  numbered  all  the  graves, 
The  Titans  governed  all, 

And  Kronos  was  their  king ; 
And  each  thing,  great  and  small, 
Remained  the  self-same  thing. 

The  fairest  of  the  Titan  throng, 

The  strongest  and  most  filled  with  pride, 
Was  he  who  ruled  the  world  of  song, 
Whose  tunes  re-echoed  far  and  wide : 
Loving  his  perfect  wife, 

Placid,  content,  and  grave ; 
His  music  filled  his  life, 

And  made  its  lord  its  slave. 

He  sang  of  restful,  perfumed  noon ; 

Of  sunsets  in  immortal  skies; 
Of  waters  silvered  by  the  moon ; 

Of  morns  when  suns  were  glad  to  rise ; 
Of  pleasant  sounds  and  sights ; 

Of  easy  streams  and  ways; 
Of  storm-forgotten  nights; 
And  tuned,  discordless  days. 
55 


56  The  Titan 

Instinctive,  with  no  thought  of  choice, 

He  sang  with  all  the  woods  in  spring; 
But  the  gaunt  forest's  winter  voice 
He  did  not  hear  and  could  not  sing: 
The  blue  gulf's  tropic  calm 

He  echoed  note  for  note ; 
But  never  the  vast  psalm 

From  the  storm-wrenched  night-sea's  throat. 

The  sun-baked  sand-waste's  husky  groan, 

The  ice-field's  startled,  tortured  roar, 
The  thoughtful  pine-land's  midnight  moan, 
The  blind  caves  in  the  ocean's  floor, 
And  all  things  fraught  with  fears, 

Touched  by  a  test  or  smart, 
Were  shut  from  out  his  ears 
And  known  not  by  his  heart. 

Men's  harvest  festivals  he  hymned, 

Their  wedding  fervor  and  their  mirth; 
And  all  their  days  by  care  undimmed, 
And  all  the  pleasures  of  their  earth ; 
Their  lives  lived  out  in  vain, 

Their  anvils'  sobs  that  rang, 
Their  passion  and  their  pain, 
He  neither  guessed  nor  sang. 

Beloved  by  Titans  and  by  men, 

He  felt  his  songs  pervade  the  days; 
Heard  his  tunes  echoed  back  again 

Fulfilled  with  earth's  and  heaven's  praise: 


The  Titan  57 

Without  a  fault  or  flaw 

They  were  the  stars'  decree, 
And  the  earth's  tidal  law 

Attuning  land  and  sea. 

And  he,  the  lord  of  harmony, 

Found  heaven  dear  and  earth  delight, 
Both  made  of  his  own  melody 

And  goodly  to  his  sense  and  sight; 
And  often  he  would  go 

Far  from  his  home  above, 
To  taste  from  men  below 
Their  worship  and  their  love. 

Where  King  Admetus  ruled  the  land, 

He  strolled  once  through  bright  meadow-slopes, 
Between  the  forest  and  the  strand, 

And  met — his  eyes  ablaze  with  hopes — 
The  eager  shepherd  lad 

Who  watched  the  monarch's  sheep, 
Fair-haired,  his  blue  eyes  sad, 
Smiling,  and  quick  to  weep. 

And  breathless  and  unasked  he  spoke: 

"My  Lord,  you  sing  such  perfect  songs! 
In  my  heart,  too,  the  songs  awoke 

Long  since:  the  clamped  earth's  pains  and  wrongs, 
Its  labors  and  its  fears, 

Its  cold  and  bitter  heat, 
Blend  strangely  in  my  ears 

In  rare  strains,  new  and  sweet. 


$8  TKe  Titan 

"And  what  I  sing  I  do  not  know, 

And  vainly  do  I  wonder  why, 
And  with  the  days  my  hopes  still  grow 
That  men  will  hear  me  by  and  by: 
Some  good  thing  for  the  land 

May  be  in  every  word. 
Your  race  might  understand, 

If  through  your  help  they  heard." 

The  kind  eyes  saw,  and  saw  him  not, 

The  soothing  hand  half  stroked  his  hair, 
The  lips  that  answered  half  forgot 
All,  save  their  own  songs  everywhere: 
The  Titan,  whom  no  woes 

Had  touched,  who  knew  but  joy, 
Knew  not  a  young  god  grows 
Like  any  other  boy. 

"My  son,"  he  said,  "sing  and  be  glad, 
But  sing  no  troubles,  throes,  or  fears. 
Be  calm.     No  healthy  heart  grows  mad. 
Dream  not  to  reach  the  Titans'  ears. 
Unto  their  homes  no  word  of 

Your  songs,  like  smoke  upcurled 
May  rise:  yours  are  unheard  of 
And  my  songs  fill  the  world." 

And,  pacing  toward  the  white-walled  town, 
With  satisfied,  rapt  eyes  and  ears, 

He  did  not  see  the  boy's  quick  frown, 
Nor  hear  the  tempest  of  his  tears: 


The  Titan  59 

Nor  mark  how  soon  his  grief 

Merged  in  a  sombre  song, 
Thin,  like  an  autumn  leaf, 

And  quivering,  but  strong. 

But,  when  afar,  the  songs  pursued 
His  senses,  blotted  out  his  own, 
And  frighted  him  with  vague,  subdued 
Suggestions  of  far  fields  unmown. 
And  all  his  heart  was  stirred, 

And  told  of  everything 
That  he  had  never  heard 
And  he  could  never  sing: 

The  rest  that  comes  but  after  toil ; 

The  gladness  that  is  born  of  pain ; 
The  justice  that  no  sin  can  foil ; 

The  strength  that  can  hope  on  in  vain: 
Beauty  that  contrast  gives ; 

How  peace  comes  out  of  strife ; 
How  trust  contends  and  lives, 
And  death  illumines  life. 

Then  many  ripening  ages  passed, 

And  imperceptibly  as  frost 
Revokes  its  settled  seals  at  last, 

Withdraws  and  dwindles  and  is  lost, 
The  Titans'  rooted  strength, 

So  perfect  in  its  days, 
Dissolved  away  at  length 
As  though  a  morning  haze. 


60  The  Titan 

Jove  ruled  and  all  the  gods  were  throned, 

Apollo's  songs,  all  warmth  and  light, 
Through  heaven  and  through  earth  intoned 
Their  twin  threads,  woven  dark  and  bright: 
The  tempests  and  the  stars, 

The  free,  glad  buds  that  sprang, 
The  cowed  things  galled  by  bars, 
Together  woke  and  sang. 

From  every  drowning  seaman's  breath, 

From  gasps  of  women's  breaking  hearts, 
From  shame,  despair,  and  sin,  and  death, 
From  petty  chafings  of  the  marts, 
From  qualms  that  blench  and  pine, 

From  hates  unclean  and  mute, 
He  wrung  sweet  songs,  like  wine 
Pressed  from  the  tortured  fruit. 

No  longer  now  for  happy  lords 

And  never  for  dulled,  hapless  slaves 
The  star-songs  pulsed:  in  full  accords 

They  searched  not  only  homes  but  graves. 
And  all  things  dear  and  dread, 

That  foster  and  destroy, 
Sang  out,  the  days  that  bled 
With  days  that  burst  for  joy. 

And  in  the  air  the  new  songs  thrilled 

The  unregarded  Titan  fared 
Through  fields  and  woods  his  songs  had  filled, 

Where  his  old  notes  of  pride  had  blared, 


The  Titan  61 

And  there  Apollo  met 

Him,  from  the  days  foregone 
A  wraith  that  lingered  yet; 

A  starlet  quenched  by  dawn. 

The  Titan,  aged  and  sad,  besought: 

"  In  your  best  music's  perfect  bloom 
Can  there  be  granted  space  for  naught 
Of  my  songs  to  survive  my  gloom  ? 
Your  strains  are  true  and  strong, 

But  men  loved  mine  of  old. 
Surely  they  were  not  wrong, 
Some  of  my  tunes  were  gold?" 

The  young  god  answered,  clear  and  swift, 

"  I  asked  you  once,  in  my  lone  youth, 
A  little  patience  to  uplift 

To  ears  enthroned  my  hope  and  truth : 
The  help  you  might  have  lent 

To  me  in  my  distress, 
My  strength  and  yearning  blent, 
You  did  not  even  guess. 

"But  this  thing  which  you  ask  of  me 

Could  not  be  brought  to  pass  again 
By  them  that  rule  the  sky,  the  sea, 

The  births,  the  souls,  the  graves  of  men : 
The  distance  is  immense 

Between  our  sundered  arts, 
For  your  songs  pleased  men's  sense, 
And  my  songs  stir  men's  hearts. 


62  TKe  Titan 

"This  thing  Jove's  thunder  could  not  give, 

Nay,  nor  could  god-compelling  fate : 
Your  songs  had  their  own  time  to  live, 
This  present  is  for  them  too  late: 
The  vague  old  time  was  rotten, 

Its  phantoms'  wings  are  furled, 
And  your  songs  are  forgotten, 
And  my  songs  fill  the  world." 


THE  LAST  BOWSTRINGS. 

THEY  had  brought  in  such  sheafs  of  hair, 
And  flung  them  all  about  us  there 
In  the  loud  noonday's  heat  and  glare: 
Gold  tresses,  far  too  fine  to  wind, 
And  brown,  with  copper  curls  entwined, 
And  black  coils,  black  as  all  my  mind. 

In  the  low,  stifling  armory, 

Whence  we  could  hear,  but  might  not  flee, 

The  roar  of  that  engirdling  sea, 

Whose  waves  were  helmet-crests  of  foes, 

Winding  the  cords  we  sat,  in  rows, 

Beside  a  mound  of  stringless  bows. 

Since  the  first  hill-scouts  panted  in, 

Before  siege- fires  and  battle  din 

Filled  night  and  day,  and  filled  within 

Our  hearts  and  brains  with  flame  and  sound, 

We  had  sat,  huddled  on  the  ground, 

Our  tears  hot  on  the  cords  we  wound. 

We  knew,  when  the  first  tidings  came, 
That  not  the  gods  from  death  or  shame 
Could  save  us,  fighting  clothed  in  flame. 
63 


64  TKe  Last  Bowstrings 

The  mid-sea's  marshalled  waves  are  few 

Beside  the  warriors  girt  with  blue 

The  gorged  hill-passes  then  let  through. 

Their  spears  shook  like  dry  wind-stirred  reeds 

Stiff  in  a  marsh's  miles  of  reeds; 

Loud  blared  the  neighing  of  their  steeds; 

The  whole  wide  land  beneath  the  stars 

Felt,  from  wheel  ruts,  or  fierce  hoof-scars, 

The  deluge  of  their  rumbling  cars. 

Against  our  walls  their  flood  was  dammed, 
Within  which,  till  each  porch  was  jammed, 
Farm-folk  and  fisher- folk  were  crammed: 
Heaped  stones  inside  the  gates  were  piled, 
While  all  above  us,  calm  and  mild, 
In  bitter  scorn  the  heavens  smiled. 

Our  men  dwelt  on  the  walls  and  towers, 
From  over  which,  for  endless  hours,    . 
The  hissing  arrows  flew  in  showers ; 
The  sling-stones,  too,  came  crashing  down, 
As  though  the  gods  of  far  renown 
Hurled  thunderbolts  into  the  town. 

Where  the  hung  temples  showed  their  lights 
Some  women  prayed  upon  the  heights ; 
Some  stole  about  throughout  the  nights, — 
Who  bore  the  warriors  food  by  day, — 
Gleaning  the  arrows  as  they  lay 
That  they  might  hurtle  back  to  slay. 


THe  Last  Bowstrings  65 

And  where  the  rooms  were  heaped  with  stores, 
Because  the  stringless  bows  were  scores, 
We  were  shut  in  with  guarded  doors; 
All  day  at  hurried  toil  we  kept, 
And  when  the  darkness  on  us  crept 
We  lay,  each  in  her  place,  and  slept. 

Quick  as  we  worked,  we  could  not  make 
Strings  fast  as  bowmen  came  to  take 
Fresh  bows:  and,  oh,  the  grinding  ache 
Of  hearts  and  fingers:  maid  and  slave 
And  princess,  we  toiled  on  to  save 
Home  that  already  was  our  grave. 

Six  days  we  wound  the  cords  with  speed ; 

Naught  else  from  us  had  any  heed, 

For  bitter  was  our  rage  and  need. 

At  last,  upon  the  seventh  day, 

Into  the  fury  of  the  fray 

They  called  our  very  guard  away. 

No  food  was  brought  us.     Faint  with  thirst, 

What  wonder  was  it  if,  at  first, 

Some  wailed  that  the  town  gates  were  burst? 

If  later,  to  the  last  embraces 

Of  child  or  mother,  from  their  places 

Some  slunk  away  with  ashen  faces? 

I  cursed  them  through  the  door  unbarred ; 
I  vowed  I  would  not  move  a  yard, 
Lest  some  one  man  of  ours,  pressed  hard, 
s 


66  THe  Last  Bowstring's 

Might  be  left  weaponless  alone. 
Until  I  died  or  turned  to  stone, 
I  would  wind  were  the  hair  mine  own. 

A  sudden  shiver  shook  my  frame, 
I  looked  up  with  my  face  aflame ; 
But,  oh,  no  tongue  has  any  name 
For  the  despair  I  saw  enthroned 
In  my  love's  eyes,  all  purple-zoned! 
I  smiled  to  greet  him,  and  I  groaned. 

He  buckled  on  a  fresh  cuirass, — 
His  own  was  but  a  tattered  mass 
Of  gory  thongs.     I  saw  him  pass 
Out  of  the  portal ;  with  good-byes 
And  blessings  filled,  and  yearning  sighs, 
For  the  last  time  I  saw  his  eyes. 

Each  moment,  all  my  blood  areel, 

I  felt  the  thrust  of  deadly  steel 

I  knew  his  body  soon  must  feel. 

My  heart  was  choked  with  prayerful  speech; 

The  high  deaf  gods  were  out  of  reach ; 

My  eyes  dry  as  a  noonday  beach. 

More  cowards  left.     Few  now  remained. 
Still  at  our  task  we  strove  and  strained 
With  bleeding  hands  and  iron-brained; 
And  still  my  fingers  all  were  fleet, 
Though  in  my  temples  burned  and  beat 
The  murmur  of  the  stunning  heat. 


TKe  Last  Bowstring's  67 

There  rushed  in  for  fresh  arms  just  then 
Some  of  our  allies, — small  dark  men; 
It  slowly  dawned  upon  my  ken 
That  one,  who  by  a  spear-heap  kneeled, 
Fierce-browed  and  grimy  from  the  field, 
Carried  my  brother's  painted  shield. 

My  heart  beat  in  long,  tearing  throbs; 
Sharp  torchlights  stormed  my  eyes  in  mobs; 
And  my  breath  came  in  rasping  sobs ; 
The  tears  from  both  my  cheeks  I  wrung ; 
So  wet  my  hands  were  that  they  clung 
Slipping  along  the  cord  I  strung. 

Mutely  we  toiled  until  my  maid, 
Her  lips  tense  as  the  strands  she  laid, 
Grew  wan ;  her  deft  quick  fingers  strayed : 
Then  she  pitched  forward  with  a  groan, 
And  lay,  white,  motionless,  and  prone. 
I  wound  on  hastily,  alone. 

Harsh  and  unevenly  outside 

Shields  clanged.     Men  called,  and  cursed,  and  cried; 

And  when  again  the  latch  was  tried 

My  knife  lay  somewhere  on  the  floor. 

Alas!  I  found  it  not  before 

Three  armored  foemen  burst  the  door. 


KRANAE. 

DROWNED,  weed-grown  crags  the  waters  hide 
Far  under  the  Ionian  sea 
Once  flashed  aloft  in  gleaming  pride 
The  sunlit  peaks  of  Kranae. 

Blue  waves,  turned  silver-surf  in  ranks, 

Played  round  her  cliffs,  white,  clean,  and  high, 

Cool  forest-leafage  clothed  her  flanks 
In  shimmering  green  against  the  sky. 

Between  sharp  reefs  an  entrance  wound 

Into  the  port,  where,  sheltered  well, 
The  tiny,  white-walled  town  shone  round 

Its  temple  and  its  citadel. 

No  change  their  island  world  had  neared 

From  mobs  to  self-reliance  schooled, 
Obeyed  and  honored,  loved  and  feared, 

Their  orphaned  king  unquestioned  ruled. 

The  posted  watchers  on  the  height 

Conned  all  the  sky-rim,  island-free, 
And  if  strange  sails  appeared  in  sight 

Signalled  the  fishing-craft  to  flee. 
68 


Rranae  69 

One  day  at  dusk,  short-breathed  and  pale, 
Their  runners  roused  the  town  to  fear, 

A  war-fleet  of  a  hundred  sail 

Out  of  the  east  was  drawing  near. 

They  waited,  every  man  arrayed, 

Their  galleys  out  as  channel-guards, 
But  lo!  the  stranger-ships  displayed 

Green  olive-sprays  from  prows  and  yards. 

They  found  them  Greeks  in  race  and  speech 

Bound  from  Phocaea,  on  the  quest 
Of  homes  out  of  the  Persians'  reach 

In  Corsica,  beyond  the  west. 

They  beached  their  ships  along  the  shore, 
The  cliff-hung,  scythe-shaped  sweep  of  sand 

Where,  such  uncounted  years  before, 
Paris  and  Helen  came  to  land. 

A  long  curved  row  of  fires  burned, 

And  with  their  crimson  radiance  dyed 

The  cliffs,  the  strand,  the  sable-sterned, 
Ranked  ships  that  hid  the  deep  outside. 

Black  cauldrons  swung  against  the  flame, 

Cloaked  crouchers  round  the  blaze  were  warmed, 

And  in  the  glare  that  went  and  came 
The  islanders  and  voyagers  swarmed. 

Presents  of  cattle,  fruits,  and  bread 
The  generous  folk  made  haste  to  bring, 

The  elders  came  and  at  their  head 

Their  handsome,  young,  unmarried  king. 


70  Rranae 

From  group  to  sea- worn  group  he  went, 
Gentle  of  voice  and  quick  to  please, 

And  left  them  solaced  and  content, 
Hopeful  and  cheered  and  at  their  ease. 

About  the  farthest  fire  stood 

Tall  women  with  their  new-grown  girls; 
One  in  a  cloak,  whose  fallen  hood 

Revealed  her  rippling,  golden  curls, 

Erinna,  daughter  of  the  best 

Of  all  Phocaea's  richest  men. 
Her  father,  at  the  king's  request, 

Called  her,  presented  her,  and  then 

Somehow  they  drew  apart,  and  soon 

Strolled  past  the  ships,  where  firelight  failed, 

Voices  were  blurred,  and  from  the  moon 
Long  sparkles  on  the  water  trailed. 

The  blaze-lit  beach  was  ruddy  gold, 
The  moonlit  wave-slopes  silver- white, 

Around  them  was  the  manifold 
Sweet  mystery  of  summer  night. 

They  paced,  and  did  not  need  to  speak; 

She  revelled  in  his  martial  air ; 
He  watched  the  firelight  warm  her  cheek, 

The  moonlight  cool  upon  her  hair. 

Their  hearts  were  full ;  their  lips  were  dumb ; 

She  breathed  delight ;  he  could  but  note 
How  well  rich  jewels  would  become 

Her  low,  broad  brow  and  slender  throat. 


Uranae  71 

Too  rapt  to  feel  how  much  they  yearned, 

To  know  how  much  their  hearts  were  stirred, 

Back  to  the  camp-fire  they  returned 
And  parted  there  with  scarce  a  word. 

After  a  night  of  waking  dreams, 

The  king  resought  the  strand  at  dawn, 

And  found,  before  the  sun's  first  gleams, 
Swift  preparation  to  be  gone. 

Amazed  and  taken  by  surprise, 

He  urged  the  wisdom  of  delay, 
And  still  he  did  not  realize 

What  he  had  hoped  for  in  their  stay. 

Depart,  the  leaders  said,  they  must. 

Their  hardy  venture  called  for  haste. 
The  strong,  fair  wind  that  they  could  trust 

Proffered  a  help  they  dared  not  waste. 

He  watched  them  drag  their  galleys  down, 
Not  knowing  why  he  was  distressed, 

Then  sent  a  runner  to  the  town 
To  fetch  his  mother's  jewel-chest. 

And  when  the  last-launched  galley  rode 

And  dipped  upon  the  even  swell, 
Up  to  Erinna's  folk  he  strode 

To  greet  her  and  to  say  farewell. 

He  begged  her  mother's  leave  to  deck 
Her  forehead  with  his  mother's  pearls ; 

Rubies  and  emeralds  round  her  neck 
He  clasped,  set  deep  in  golden  whirls. 


72  Kranae 

Her  father  thanked  him  for  his  gift ; 

They  went  on  board ;  the  canvas  drew ; 
He  watched  the  galley  plunge  and  lift 

And  then  grow  small  against  the  blue. 

He  watched  the  dim  specks  fade  and  melt 

Into  the  sky-line,  far  away, 
Not  realizing  what  he  felt 

Through  half  the  duties  of  the  day. 

The  midday  brought  him  no  repose, 
He  could  not  sleep,  could  only  brood, 

And  still  his  mind  did  not  disclose 
A  comprehension  of  his  mood. 

His  thoughts  went  westward  with  the  fleet, 

He  saw  them  on  a  hostile  coast, 
Saw  all  the  dangers  they  must  meet 

Swarm  round  them  in  a  threatening  host. 

Sly  Carthaginians  would  intrigue 

With  herdsmen,  raiding  from  the  downs, 

Ligurian  Gauls  would  join  in  league 
With  haughty,  fierce  Etruscan  towns. 

He  saw  Erinna,  small  and  frail, 

A  timid,  brave,  pathetic  shape, 
Dragged  on  adventures  that  must  fail 

Through  terrors  she  could  not  escape. 

In  a  revealing  flash  that  made 

His  heart  stand  still  and  stopped  his  breath 
He  saw  assault  succeed  blockade, 

Beheld  her  capture  and  her  death. 


K.ranae  73 

Plain  as  the  sun's  clear  noonday  disk 

He  saw  how  precious  was  to  him 
This  treasure-girl  he  must  not  risk 

On  seas  ferocious,  wild,  and  grim. 

In  a  bewildering,  dazing  dance 

He  felt  his  hopes  and  fears  revolve, 
Then  saw  his  one  remaining  chance 

And  seized  it  with  a  swift  resolve. 

Using  his  special  pride  and  joy, 

The  swiftest  galley  on  the  seas, 
Knowing  the  lads  he  would  employ, 

He  could  come  up  to  them  with  ease. 

He  chose  his  crew,  explained  their  goal ; 

All  loved  him,  all  were  keen  and  staunch; 
And  then  with  an  impatient  soul 

He  urged  them  to  prepare  and  launch. 

The  wind  was  fair,  but  at  the  oars 

His  comrades  strained  for  greater  speed, 

Watching  the  sunlit  island's  shores, 
Uplands,  and  dwindling  peaks  recede. 

Straight  towards  the  sunset  clouds  they  drove, 
Each  man  alert,  no  oar  pulled  slack, 

Then  through  the  dusk  and  night  they  clove 
The  shimmering  moonglade's  guiding  track. 

The  relays,  huddled,  lay  asleep ; 

The  zealous  rowers  tugged  and  sang ; 
The  king  steered,  leaning  on  the  sweep; 

His  brain  with  pride  and  glory  rang, 


74  Rranae 

To  think  that  all  this  wood  and  bronze, 

Cordage  and  sail  and  sinewed  skill, 
This  speed  as  graceful  as  a  swan's 

Existed  but  to  work  his  will. 

After  the  moon  was  gone,  the  west, 

As  if  the  sunset  reappeared, 
Glowed  with  red  Etna's  spouting  crest 

And  toward  its  gory  glare  they  steered. 

Later  they  saw  the  mountain  loom ; 

Then  in  the  starshine  they  divined 
Far  headlands  beetling  in  the  gloom, 

Black  shapes  in  blackness  ill-defined. 

Before  the  eastern  sky  was  gray, 

Before  the  stars  above  were  weak, 
Low  down  abeam,  along  a  bay, 

They  saw  a  twinkling,  ruddy  streak. 

The  oarsmen  cheered,  and  craned  to  look ; 

The  sails  and  yards  were  stowed.     They  brought 
The  ship's  head  round;  she  leapt  and  shook, 

Now  headed  for  the  camp  they  sought. 

Lest  their  approach  might  cause  alarm, 
They  beached  her  softly,  with  no  sound, 

Behind  the  point  whose  rocky  arm 

Sheltered  the  camp  which  they  had  found. 

The  king  advanced  alone,  and  crept 

Past  sentries,  none  of  whom  awoke, 
To  where  around  their  fire  slept, 

Wrapped  in  their  cloaks,  Erinna's  folk. 


HLranae  75 

Herself  lay  on  her  furs.  He  thrilled 
To  see  her  small,  transparent  hands 

Clasping  his  gifts  in  sleep,  and  filled 

With  deep-hued  gems  and  golden  bands. 

Longings  for  him  had  filled  her  heart 
Till  dreaming  of  him  took  their  place, 

And  now,  through  eyelids  slow  to  part, 
She  saw  the  lovelight  on  his  face. 

While  round  the  sinking  embers  drowsed 
The  camp,  the  pale-lit  shore  was  mute, 

Erinna's  kinsfolk  were  aroused 
To  pass  upon  her  lover's  suit. 

He  had  their  liking  and  respect ; 

The  gifts  he  offered  in  exchange 
Were  far  too  lavish  to  reject ; 

Besides  they  could  not  think  it  strange; 

If  they  should  venture  to  refuse 

The  maiden  he  so  greatly  prized, 
He  might  be  goaded  on  to  use 

The  other  means  which  they  surmised : 

The  serried  spearmen  who  might  lurk, 

Resolved  to  win  success  or  fall, 
Hid  in  the  morning's  mist,  to  work 

His  will  and  answer  to  his  call. 

They  guessed  them  ready  for  a  rush ; 

Saw  gifts  far  more  than  they  could  ask; 
And  saw  the  warrior's  fury  flush 

Beneath  his  suave  expression's  mask 


76  Kranae 

Therefore  they  gave  her.  All  day  long 
Beside  their  galleys  they  rejoiced ; 

With  wedding-cheers  and  many  a  song 

Their  gladness  and  their  hopes  they  voiced. 

While  of  her  hero  she  was  glad, 

To  leave  her  parents  she  was  loath, 

But  now  the  kindly  breezes  had 

Veered  southward  till  they  favored  both. 

Before  the  dusk  they  started  forth 

Upon  the  ending  of  the  feast, 
The  fleet  rowed  boldly  towards  the  north, 

The  bridal  galley  towards  the  east. 

The  sunset  reddened  sails  and  spars; 

The  moonlight  silvered  all  their  wake; 
The  darkness  shone  with  countless  stars, 

The  dawn  was  just  about  to  break. 

Beside  the  rail  the  bride  and  groom 
Wakeful  and  nestled,  mute  and  fond, 

Basked  in  a  bliss  that  left  no  room 
For  thought  of  anything  beyond. 

They  heeded  not  who  watched  or  steered; 

The  toil-worn  men  in  silence  rowed, 
Till  Kranae  from  the  waves  appeared, 

And  back  of  it  the  sunrise  glowed. 

Thus  to  their  loyal  home  they  won, 

And  shared  their  palace  and  their  throne 

In  happiness  that  was  not  done 

After  their  children's  sons  were  grown. 


Rranae  77 


The  aged  lovers  long  were  dead 

And  laid  at  peace  among  the  graves 

Before  the  day  of  shock  and  dread 
That  sunk  their  isle  beneath  the  waves. 

Their  doubly-buried  marble  tomb 

Still  holds  the  undivided  pair, 
Unchanged  and  lifelike  in  the  gloom, 

His  jewels  round  her  throat  and  hair. 


THE  RETRIBUTION. 

IT  was  after  the  hosts  of  the  Persian   King  were 
utterly  scattered  and  slain 
That  I  made  one  of  a  scouting  raid  through  a  treeless 

and  waterless  plain. 
The  King  and  the  army  had  followed  fast  to  the 

mountains  where  Bessus  had  fled, 
And  we  were  a  hundred  rollicking  lads  with  Mathos  of 

Crete  at  our  head. 
Our  party  was  one  of  a  score  that  the  King  had 

scattered  to  harry  the  land, 
And  each  was  to  act  as  each  deemed  best  and  carried 

his  life  in  his  hand. 
We  left  the  road  at  the  river  ford,  and  we  struck 

through  the  trackless  waste, 
And  ten  leagues  off  we  came  to  a  spring  that  was 

shaded  and  sweet  to  taste. 
We  left  the  spring,  and  in  ten  leagues  more  we  came  to 

the  castled  peak 
Where  we  had  been  told  that  a  booty  lay,  which  was 

worth  the  coming  to  seek. 
The  castle  had  gardens  all  about,  and  was  builded  of 

chiselled  stone, 
And  the  crag  that  bore  it  was  steep  and  sheer,  and 

stood  in  the  plain  alone. 
The  walled  road  wound  from  the  fortress  gate  to  the 

roots  of  the  mighty  hill, 
78 


The  Retribution  79 

And  twenty  men  might  have  held  the  place  against  all 

our  force  or  will. 
But  we  were  Alexander's  men,  and  our  name  was  a 

terror  to  all, 
And  never  a  man  would  dare  to  fight,  for  what  we 

attacked  must  fall. 
The  lord  was  old  and  not  overbold,  and  his  vassals 

were  gray  with  fear. 
And  he  sent  his  son  to  treat  for  terms  as  soon  as 

he  saw  us  near. 
And  Mathos  answered  the  land  was  ours,  and  all  of 

its  souls  our  slaves, 
And  if  one  man  of  our  band  was  harmed,  the  vultures 

should  dig  their  graves; 
But  since  they  had  greeted  us  courteously,  we  would 

spare  their  homes  and  lives, 
And  take  their  horses  and  slaves  and  gold,  and  leave 

their  daughters  and  wives. 
They  led  us  into  the  castle  court,  and  stabled  the 

horses  all, 
And  each  of  us  kept  his  sword  at  hand  for  aught  that 

might  befall. 
We  ate,  set  guards  at  the  gates,  and  slept,  and  rose 

at  the  break  of  day 
To  search  the  castle  from  roof  to  rock  for  what  we 

could  carry  away. 
The   frightened  women   clung  round   the   lord,  and 

Mathos  strode  to  one, 
"I  shall  have  this  girl  for  a  journey-mate,"  he  said, 

"when  our  stay  is  done." 
"My  daughter  she  is,"  the  old  lord  cried,  "I  have 

your  pledge,  she  is  free." 


8o  TKe  Retribution 

And  Mathos  thrust  his  long  jaw  out,  and  he  grunted, 

"She  pleases  me." 
Her   brother    stepped   out   with    a    heaving   breast, 

cheeks  white,  and  an  angry  frown, 
And  Mathos  lifted  his  sheathless  sword,  and  hewed 

the  stripling  down. 
The  old  lord  struck  with  his  naked  fist,  and  Mathos 

fell  with  a  groan, 
And  we   yelled   and  scattered  them  right  and  left, 

and  they  fled  as  the  girl  had  flown. 
And  Mathos,  spitting  teeth  and  blood,  snarled  out  like 

an  angry  hound, 
And  three  in  the  flurry  there  were  slain,  and  the  rest 

were  tightly  bound, 
But  the  tall    grave  girl  with  the  fine-spun  hair  we 

neither  held  nor  found. 
Then  we  set  stout  poles  on  the  castle  wall,   with 

cross-bars  nailed  or  tied 
And  the  white-haired  lord  and   his   shrieking   serfs 

on  them  we  crucified. 
We  cast  our  lots  for  the  women  all,  and  we  led  them 

past  in  sight 
Of  the  men  that  writhed  on  high  in  a  row,  and  we 

found  the  wine  by  night. 
We  revelled  high  in  the  castle  hall,  and  whenever 

we  could  hear 
A   scream   from   the   wind-swept  wall    without,  we 

answered  it  with  a  cheer. 
We  slept  in  a  heap  as  each  man  fell,  and  woke  when 

the  sun  was  high, 
And  the  first  who  went  to  the  stable  called  with  a 

scared  and  startled  cry. 


TKe  Retribution  81 

The  horses  were  hamstrung  every  one,  save  the  four 

of  the  chariot  team 
The  lord  had  showed  us  with  special  pride  as  the 

highest  in  his  esteem, 
And  when  we  rushed  to  the  terrace  wall,  we  saw  on 

the  road  below 

A  scythe- wheeled  war-car  like  to  those  we  had  terri 
ble  cause  to  know, 
And  the  four  bays  drew  it,  and,  when  we  looked,  they 

had  nearly  reached  the  plain, 
And  there  was  no  chance  that  our  pursuit  could  near 

the  girl  again, 
For  we  saw  with  amaze  that  the  driver  there  was  the 

girl,  and  the  girl  alone, 
And   she  stood  on   the  lurching   chariot-bed  like  a 

goddess  upon  her  throne ; 
She  wore  a  corselet  of  quilted  mail,  and  she  waved  an 

arm  on  high 
To    where    the    knotted    corpses    hung    against   the 

morning  sky, 
She  lashed  the  horses,  and  whirled  afar  on  the  parched 

and  plantless  land, 
And  at  last  a  mere  speck  disappeared  in  the  cleft  of 

two  hills  of  sand. 
We  slaughtered  the  women  with  fire  or  steel  as  our 

mood  was,  swift  or  slow, 
And  each  man  packed  a  burden  of  spoil,  and  we  made 

all  haste  to  go. 
It  was  dusk  when  we  trod  the  level  ground,  and  we 

walked  in  the  velvet  glare 
Of  the  orange  light  that  was  shed  afar  from  the 

blazing  castle  there. 


82  THe  Retribution 

As  we  trudged  we  passed  on  into  the  dark,  and  behind 

us  died  the  flame, 
We  steered  by  the  stars,  and  just  at  day  to  the  place 

of  the  spring  we  came. 
The  burnt  tree-trunks  were  charred  to  the  earth,  and 

the  spring  was  choked  and  gone, 
And  the  soil  on  it  trampled  by  horses'  hoofs,  and  their 

prints  were  plain  in  the  dawn. 
We  questioned  each  other's  wandering  eyes,  and  each 

man  looked  around, 
There  was  nothing  in  sight  but  the  cloudless  sky  and 

the  calcined,  powdered  ground. 
The  plain  was  brown  and  yellow  and  dun,  and  the 

billowing  sand-dunes  rolled 
Like  ocean-waves  as  far  as  the  sky,  and  two  of  them 

shone  like  gold. 
Then  out  from  between  them  rose  the  sun,  a  red-gold 

shield  afar, 
And  blazoned  upon  its  crimson  disk  a  scythe-wheeled, 

four-horsed  car. 
The  girl  stood  in  it  erect  and  dumb,  and  the  sun  was 

behind  her  head, 
And  she  lashed  the  beautiful  curvetting  bays  and 

straight  at  our  midst  she  sped. 
The  spear-head  shone  on  the  chariot-pole  a  man's 

length  out  before, 
And  the  cruel  scythes  on  the  hissing  wheels  in  the 

sand-spray  flashed  and  tore, 
A  score  of  us  hurled  our  trusty  spears,  but  they  missed 

her,  all  the  score, 
And  through  the  midst  of  our  burdened  line  her  track 

was  a  gully  of  gore. 


The  Retribution  83 

She  wheeled  the  car  in  a  narrow  curve  and  straightway 

turned  it  back, 

And  Mathos,  cool,  with  levelled  spear,   stood  con 
fident  in  her  track, 
He  aimed  at  the  left-hand  leader's  throat,  but  he 

missed  when  it  yawed  and  reared, 
And  by  the  pole  of  the  rocking  car  through  the  chest 

was  Mathos  speared. 
She  checked  the  bays  in  their  fullest  course;  they 

pranced  and  the  pole  was  free ; 
And  the  scythes  in  her  passage  had  mown  us  down, 

and  each  wheel  slaughtered  three. 
In  our  quivers  our  arrows  stuck,  our  bow-cords  slipped, 

and  we  could  but  fail 
Of  every  shot,  for  the  few  that  sped  glanced  harmlessly 

from  her  mail ; 
The  horses'  wounds  but  spurred  them  on ;  they  flew, 

but  none  bucked  or  fell, 
And  she  leaned  back  on  the   tightened  reins  and 

guided  them  swift  and  well. 
She  turned  the  team  at  a  spear-shot  off,  and  lashed 

them  back  with  a  cry, 
And  every  man  of  us  felt  in  his  heart  he  would  be 

the  next  to  die. 
We   had   dropped   our   loads   and   we   dropped  our 

shields,  to  all  of  the  winds  we  fled, 
And  she  at  the  scattering  of  us  paused  in  the  midst 

of  the  mangled  dead, 
And  when  she  had  seen  who  ran  most  swift,  on  him 

was  the  next  death  done, 
And  round  us  in  circles  she  drove  and  mowed  the 

swiftest,  one  by  one. 


84  The  Retribution 

They  had  been  brave,  but  the  bravest  fled  like  a  tooth 
less,  beaten  cur, 
And  his  heart  was  water  within  his  breast  when  he 

heard  the  nearing  whir 
Of  the  hungry  scythes  as  they  gnawed  the  air,  and 

his  scared  limbs  could  not  flee, 
When  he  knew  that  the  swish  of  the  hurrying  blades 

would  reach  him  just  at  the  knee. 
There  was  neither  crevice  nor  rock  nor  tree,  no  shelter, 

no  place  to  hide ; 
She  drove  at  random  east  and  west,  and  she  saw  each 

man,  and  he  died. 
I  saw  no  hope  and  I  could  not  flee,  I  stood  in  the 

midst  and  gazed : 
I  saw  the  last  man  die  and  I  lived,  and  my  heart  with 

dread  was  dazed. 
Then  I  bethought  me  that  I  had  called  to  Mathos  to 

hold  his  hand, 
When  he  slew  the  boy  who  had  spoken  no  word, 

and  I  waited  for  her  command. 
She  drove  the  car  to  me  at  a  walk,  it  was  all  one  clot 

of  gore, 
And  she  gestured  toward  the  river  ford,  and  I  walked 

as  she  bade  before. 
We  reached  the  ford  in  the  early  dusk  and  I  knew  as 

though  I  had  heard 

The  message  she  meant  me  to  give  to  the  King,  al 
though  she  had  uttered  no  word. 
I  saw  our  men  on  the  farther  bank,  and  I  waded  into 

the  stream, 
And  heard  her  pause  in  the  midst  of  the  ford,  and 

turned  as  though  in  a  dream, 


The  Retribution  85 

I  saw  her  turn  the  chariot  down  at  the  deepest  place 
of  the  ford, 

And  urge  the  maddened  shying  colts  where  the 
rapids  leapt  and  roared ; 

I  saw  a  satisfied,  terrible  smile  on  her  drawn  dis 
cordant  face, 

And  I  saw  the  horses  and  car  in  a  heap  in  the  current's 
midmost  race ; 

I  saw  the  horses  and  her  go  down  in  the  light  of  the 
vanished  sun, 

And  I  knew  that  the  raid  which  Mathos  had  led  was 
utterly  finished  and  done. 


VERTUMNA. 

FROM  mountain-ridge  to  seashore,  all  the  plain 
Had  not  one  man  as  handsome  as  the  King, 
Mirandas,  who  had  just  begun  his  reign. 

His  boyish  eyes  were  full  of  manhood's  spring, 
His  look  was  always  eager,  quick,  and  glad, 
His  lips  seemed  just  about  to  shout  or  sing. 

Men  loved  him  as  a  frank  and  royal  lad 

Ready  to  hunt  or  fight  with  equal  joy, 
And  women  loved  him  for  a  way  he  had. 

Firm  as  a  man,  imperious  as  a  boy, 
In  every  matter  he  would  have  his  way; 
Advice  he  heard,  but  seldom  would  employ. 

Ardent  and  fond,  he  had  no  wish  to  stay 

Unmarried,  but  his  spirit  chafed  with  spleen 
Against  all  forms  and  customs.     He  would  say 

Parent  or  guardian,  nurse  or  go-between, 
He  would  not  talk  with :  he  himself  should  choose 
The  maiden  who  would  be  his  wife  and  Queen. 

Nobles  and  burghers  pondered  on  the  news. 

Their  lovely,  well-decked  daughters,  one  by  one, 
Tried  with  the  prince  such  wiles  as  women  use. 

86 


Vertumna  87 

He  liked  them  all,  but  fell  in  love  with  none, 
And  still  continued  seeking  for  a  wife 
As  eagerly  as  when  he  had  begun. 

Vertumna  lived  an  isolated  life, 

A  prophetess  and  priestess,  set  apart 
From  throngs  and  traffic,  chattering  and  strife. 

A  sorceress  devoted  to  her  art, 
She  dwelt  beside  a  solitary  shrine; 

Duty  and  lore  engrossing  all  her  heart. 

Her  temple  stood  upon  a  rocky  spine 

That  jutted  from  a  mountain-spur,  among 
Forests  of  chestnut,  beech,  and  sombre  pine. 

From  near  and  far  came  suppliants,  some  young, 
Lovers  and  warriors,  some  by  problems  vexed, 
Grave  councillors,  controlled  of  face  and  tongue. 

Responses  solved  the  doubts  of  the  perplexed, 

The  sick  or  wretched  found  her  skill  their  aid, 
One  man  she  cured  and  comforted  the  next. 

Wrapped  in  her  lore,  proud  of  the  part  she  played, 
Of  love  or  loving  she  had  never  thought, 
By  choice  and  calling  she  remained  a  maid. 

One  day  the  King,  astray  while  hunting,  sought 

Refreshment  and  direction  as  he  passed. 
The  sight  of  him  before  her  temple  brought 

So  swift  a  change,  love  stormed  her  heart  so  fast, 
That  all  her  maiden  moods  and  aims  were  gone 
Like  leaves  blown  seaward  by  a  sudden  blast 


88  Vertximna 

Dreaming  of  him,  she  lay  awake  till  dawn, 

Hoping  for  love,  her  blushes  blazed  and  burned 
Fearing  contempt,  she  startled  like  a  fawn. 

Doubting  herself,  she  dreaded  to  be  spurned ; 
Of  meeting  him  she  thought  with  keen  alarm ; 
To  meet,  allure,  and  win  him  still  she  yearned. 

Then  she  remembered  her  most  potent  charm, 

Learned  from  the  kindly  dryads  of  the  wood, 
Within  her  powers,  sure  and  free  from  harm. 

By  exercise  of  sorcery  she  could 
Assume  at  will,  and,  while  she  wished  it,  wear 
Whatever  semblance  to  her  whim  seemed  good. 

Stature  and  shape  of  features,  hue  of  hair, 

Tint  of  complexion,  color  of  her  eyes, 
Could  make  her  seem  unutterably  fair. 

And,  if  she  failed  at  first,  she  might  devise 
A  new  appearance  and  if  that  were  vain 
Vary  her  subtle,  exquisite  disguise. 

Whatever  guise  should  help  her  love  to  gain 

His  love,  her  magic  spell  would  make  her  own, 
And  such,  as  if  so  born,  she  would  remain. 

She  made  herself  a  woman  nobly  grown, 
Tall,  rosy-cheeked,  blue-eyed,  and  yellow-haired, 
Like  princesses  her  childish  dreams  had  known. 

Her  garb  and  her  adornment  well  prepared. 

Throbbing  with  hopes  she  did  not  dare  evince, 
Screened  in  her  litter,  to  the  town  she  fared. 


Vertumna  89 

Mastering  the  fears  that  made  her  shrink  and  wince, 
Upon  some  pretext  easy  to  aver, 

As  temple-ward,  she  asked  to  see  the  prince. 

He  gave  her  audience  without  demur ; 

Was  gracious ;  listened ;  granted  what  she  asked, 
But  never  seemed  to  see  or  notice  her. 

Her  power  of  self-control  had  been  so  tasked 
By  her  chagrin,  that  when  at  home  again 

And  like  herself,  her  woe  could  not  be  masked. 

Her  women,  seeing  all  her  soul  in  pain, 

Not  knowing  why,  and  scared,  did  all  they  might 
To  soothe  and  cheer  her,  not  for  long  in  vain. 

After  a  frantic,  agonizing  night, 
She  moped  some  dreadful  days  and  nights  away ; 
Then  woke  one  morning,  purposeful  and  bright. 

Again  she  wove  enchantments  to  array 

Her  yearning  soul  in  charms  of  dainty  flesh 
Such  as  few  women  ever  can  display. 

A  milk-white  skin,  miraculous  and  fresh, 
A  regal  poise,  deep  hazel  eyes  aglow, 

And  burnished,  bronzy  tresses,  mesh  on  mesh. 

In  this  appearance  she  took  care  to  go 

Into  the  city  when  the  king  would  ride 
In  a  procession,  dignified  and  slow. 

Borne  loftily,  her  litter  open  wide, 
Among  her  cushions,  she  surveyed  the  throng 
Whose  admiration  filled  her  heart  with  pride. 


90  "Vertumna 

Her  waiting  for  the  pageant  was  not  long. 

The  pomp  wound  towards  the  place  of  sacrifice. 
Expecting  triumph,  all  her  hopes  were  strong. 

Yet  utter  failure  met  her  proud  device. 
The  king  surveyed  her  with  a  steady  gaze, 
But  did  not  pause  or  con  her  beauty  twice. 

Incredulous,  bewildered,  in  a  daze, 

She  was  unconscious  of  her  journey  back. 
For  long  she  drooped.     At  length,  her  hopes  ablaze, 

Once  more  her  spells  prepared  for  love's  attack 
Splendors  of  form  and  features,  eyes  like  jet, 
A  dark,  warm  skin  and  hair  of  shining  black. 

Clothed  in  such  beauty,  once  again  she  met 
The  king,  and  won  no  more  of  his  regard 
Than  previously.     Her  purpose  still  more  set, 

She  showed  another  guise,  as  evil-starred, 
Again  and  yet  again.     He  took  no  heed. 
His  gaze  was  blank,  impersonal,  or  hard. 

Her  oracles  all  promised  her  good  speed, 

And,  though  so  often  baffled  and  ignored, 
She  hoped  the  mystic  seventh  would  succeed. 

So,  when  from  her  distress  her  fancies  soared, 
She  made  herself  a  girl  beyond  all  girls 

With  all  the  grace  enchantment  could  afford. 

Small  features,  rose-leaf  skin,  and  teeth  like  pearls, 

Dimples,  curved  lips  like  coral  in  their  hue, 
Big  violet  eyes,  wide  brows,  and  golden  curls. 


VerUimna  91 

Riding  amid  his  splendid  retinue, 
He  passed  her  as  she  stood  beside  the  road, 
As  lovely  as  a  rosebud  starred  with  dew. 

His  dazzled  train,  all  fascinated,  glowed 
With  admiration,  but  he  gave  no  sign, 
As  stolid  as  the  horse  that  he  bestrode. 

Fearing  her  gods  were  false,  or  turned  malign, 
Despondent,  abject,  broken,  dazed,  and  cowed, 
She  shrank  away;  abandoned  her  design, 

And,  when  at  home,  despairingly  allowed 

The  days  to  pass  in  brooding,  heeded  not 
The  arts  and  duties  which  had  made  her  proud. 

Her  clients  left,  ignored  or  clean  forgot ; 
She  wandered  in  the  wilds  from  glen  to  glen, 
Wide-eyed,  but  gazing  at  she  knew  not  what. 

So  far  she  kept  from  all  the  ways  of  men 

That  seldom  did  a  faint,  thin,  distant  horn 
Tell  her  of  hunters  barely  in  her  ken. 

Woe- weary,  heavy-hearted,  and  forlorn, 
She  sought  her  safest,  favorite  retreat 

Across  rain-freshened  hills,  one  fair,  clear  morn. 

A  little  brook-side  glade  was  at  her  feet, 
Sun-gilded  trees  above,  a  beetling  crag 
Behind  her,  hollowed  to  a  throne-like  seat. 

She  heard  the  brushwood  crackle,  and  a  stag, 
Too  wearied  out  to  run,  tottered  and  crept 
Into  the  glade  on  limbs  he  scarce  could  drag. 


92  Vertximna 

His  hunted  eyes  upon  her  face  he  kept, 

Crawled  to  her,  laid  his  head  upon  her  lap, 
As  if  for  shelter.     Then  at  last  she  wept. 

Melted  to  pity  for  the  beast's  mishap, 
She  felt  at  last  the  soothing  balm  of  tears ; 

Her  bonds  of  wretchedness  all  seemed  to  snap, 

The  moods  and  visions  of  her  springtime  years 

Revived  in  her  there  sobbing,  with  her  face 
Beneath  his  antlers,  laid  against  the  deer's. 

When,  straightening  up,  she  loosened  her  embrace 
Of  the  stag's  neck,  the  creature  looked  around, 
Listened,  and  flitted  from  the  open  space. 

She  sat  alone,  a  slim  girl,  simply  gowned 

In  white  wool  homespun,  her  complexion  pale 
As  bloodless  flesh  the  sun  and  wind  have  browned. 

Wisps  of  her  lustreless  light  hair  atrail 

Escaped  their  bands  by  either  hollow  cheek ; 

Her  slender  neck  seemed  pitifully  frail. 

Her  small,  cleft  chin  was  quivering  and  weak; 

Her  thin,  straight  lips  were  colorless  and  shook; 
Her  faint  gray  eyes  were  dim,  resigned,  and  meek. 

She  heard  a  splash,  a  footstep  by  the  brook, 
And  instantly  the  king  came  into  view 
Alone,  and  saw  her  in  her  sheltered  nook. 

A  qualm  of  panic  burned  her  through  and  through, 

She  had  not  time  to  hide  or  flee  or  weave 
A  spell  to  make  her  beautiful  anew. 


Vertumna  93 

She  sat  there  numb,  yet  could  not  but  perceive 
On  the  king's  face  a  look  that  overjoyed 

Her  heart  with  hopes  she  dared  not  half  believe. 

Transfigured  by  a  rapture  unalloyed, 

He  neared  her  with  a  diffident  advance. 
"Are  you  some  deity  I  should  avoid," 

He  said,  "  some  vision  of  a  waking  trance? 
Some  goddess  or  some  wood-nymph  of  these  hills? 
If  you  are  human,  by  what  strange  mischance 

"Have  we  not  met  before?     Your  presence  thrills 
My  mind  with  wonder  and  my  heart  with  flame. 
The  longings  of  my  soul  your  face  fulfils. 

"Are  you  divine?     Unwittingly  I  came 
To  sacrilege,  yet  plead  not.     Slay  me  here. 

Or  are  you  mortal?     Let  me  know  your  name." 

She  answered:  "I  am  human,  do  not  fear. 

I  am  Vertumna,  priestess,  head,  and  ward 
At  the  cliff -temple  of  the  fruitful  year." 

"  Strange,  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  your  looks  do  not  accord 
With  anything  I  seem  to  recollect 

Of  that  Vertumna."     She  replied:     "  My  lord, 

"You  saw  me  fairer  far  and  better  decked, 

Radiant  in  robes  and  jewels,  glad  and  sure. 
You  passed  me  without  notice  or  respect." 

He  said:     "Adornments  could  not  but  obscure 
Yourself,  for  had  it  been  yourself  I  saw, 

I  must  have  loved  you  then,  beyond  all  cure. 


94  Vertximna 

"  But  now  I  see  your  very  self  you  draw 

All  that  I  am  to  love  you,  I  behold 
In  you  my  boyhood's  dreams,  my  manhood's  law.' 

Such  was  their  wooing.     Till  they  both  were  old 
They  saw  their  perfect  happiness  endure, 
Glad  of  each  other,  living  days  of  gold. 


THE  MEASURE  OF  THE  SWORD. 

Ita  omnes  humiliavit  ut  etiam  poeros  ad  spatas  metiri 
praeciperet  et  quicunque  eandem  mensuram  excederet  capita 
plecteretur. — CHRONICA  SANGALLENSIS. 


IN  his  great  tent  amid  his  camp 
King  Charlemagne,  with  crisped  white  beard, 
Heard  angry  shouts  and  then  the  tramp 

Of  an  excited  mob  that  cheered, 
Yelled,     "Murder!"    bellowed,    "Seize  him!    bring 
The  wretch!"  and  "Leave  it  to  the  king!" 

"Stone  the  false  knight!"  and  snarled  and  jeered. 

He  stilled  them,  asked  them  why  they  made 
This  outcry,  followed  them,  and  found 

Near  the  encampment,  in  a  glade, 
Count  Fulk  of  Var  upon  the  ground, 

While,  with  a  foot  upon  his  neck, 

His  youthful  slayer  held  in  check 

The  gnashing  crowd  that  raged  around. 
95 


96  THe  Measure  of  tKe  Sword 

Riding  among  them,  Charlemagne 
Repressed  the  tumult  and  the  cries 

Of  "Justice,"  " Judgment,"  "Foully  slain," 
And  others.     From  about  their  prize 

The  slain  man's  furious  retinue, 

Aflame  for  their  revenge,  withdrew, 
Abashed  and  quelled  beneath  his  eyes. 

The  King  then  bade  the  youth  declare 
What  was  the  vengeance  he  had  sought, 

And  granted  him  a  chance  to  swear 
The  duel  had  been  fairly  fought, 

And  when  his  story  had  been  told 

The  lad  stood,  confident  and  bold, 
While  the  King  sat  in  silent  thought. 

Amid  the  tense,  uneasy  hush, 

The  dead  man's  henchmen  breathing  hard, 
Alert  and  ready  for  a  rush, 

Leashed  by  the  monarch's  stern  regard, 
The  King  addressed  his  mounted  peers 
And  paladins,  who,  grave  in  years, 

Sat  next  him,  grizzled,  tanned,  and  scarred, 

"My  lords,  how  are  we  to  decide? 

Either  this  young  man's  spite  and  hate 
Besmirch  the  dead,  if  he  have  lied, 

With  crimes  too  hideous  to  relate, 
Or,  if  their  truth  should  be  assured, 
For  the  injustice  he  endured 

No  reparation  is  too  great." 


XKe  Measure  of  tHe  Sword  97 

Said  Ogier:     "I  believe  this  youth." 
Said  Huon  of  Bordeaux:  "We  trudged 

Campaigns  together;  't  is  the  truth." 
The  Count  of  Flanders  had  not  budged 

Upon  his  horse.     He  growled:  "I  know 

That  every  word  he  says  is  so." 
Then  thus  the  Emperor  adjudged : 

"His  death  in  combat  at  your  hands 

Was  just ;  his  sins  be  on  his  head. 
His  titles,  vassals,  serfs,  and  lands 

Are  yours  by  right.     Let  all  men  dread 
To  harm  you.     Now  that  they  have  heard, 
Let  no  man  contravene  my  word." 

And  this  is  what  the  youth  had  said : 

II 

"  King  Karl,  the  measure  of  the  sword 

He  meted  out  to  me  of  old 
I  have  here  repaid.     I  have  restored 

Back  into  hell  the  soul  he  sold. 
This  carrion  beneath  my  heel 
Should  have  been  broken  on  the  wheel 

For  deeds  too  monstrous  to  be  told. 

"  I  slew  him  in  a  fair,  set  fight. 

I  used  no  vantage  to  begin: 
On  any  man  of  greatest  might 

Among  his  hirelings  or  his  kin 
I  am  prepared  at  once  to  prove 
My  words,  if  any  dares  to  move 

The  test  which  I  am  sure  to  win. 

7 


98  TKe  Measure  of  tKe  Sword 

"Yet  before  any  shall  advance 

As  champion,  let  them  all  weigh  well 

My  wrongs,  and  how  there  is  no  chance 
To  overcome  me.     I  shall  tell, 

That  all  who  listen  here  may  be 

Judges  between  this  corpse  and  me, 
Just  how  between  us  it  befell. 

"Only  one  single  time  before 

Did  Fulk  and  I  stand  face  to  face. 

I  was  a  child  then,  yet  I  swore 
To  have  his  life,  but  not  by  base 

Plots,  or  by  tricks:     I  did  not  choose 

Such  means  as  he  was  keen  to  use, 
Which  I  escaped  by  Heaven's  grace. 

"  A  great  lord,  mighty  in  the  realm, 
With  fiefs  and  castles,  should  have  had 

No  taxing  task  to  overwhelm 

A  poor,  scarce  friended,  nameless  lad. 

Yet  at  the  thought  of  me  he  quailed, 

And  all  his  treacherous  efforts  failed. 
With  Heaven's  protection  I  was  clad. 

"  While  I  was  yet  a  tiny  waif 

Chance  charity  had  saved  and  kept, 

My  days  and  nights  were  never  safe 

From  murderous  caitiffs,  knaves  that  crept 

About  me,  or  who  lay  in  wait 

To  poison  what  I  drank  or  ate, 
To  stab  or  brain  me  as  I  slept. 


THe  Measure  of  tKe  Sword  99 

"  While  I  was  yet  a  page,  unskilled 

In  combat  or  the  use  of  arms, 
My  very  neighborhood  so  filled 

His  guilty  conscience  with  alarms 
That  he  endeavored  to  prevent 
Encountering  me  and  all  it  meant 

By  pagan  spells  and  heathen  charms. 

"  And  when  I  had  become  a  squire, 
Though  I  was  dogged,  day  after  day, 

By  the  assassins  he  could  hire, 
If  near  him  my  lord's  forces  lay, 

He  always  managed  to  arrange 

For  his  command  some  sudden  change 
That  took  him  some  half  a  world  away. 

"  While  I  was  with  the  northern  host 

Searching  morasses  for  the  dens 
Of  forest  savages,  his  post 

Was  south  among  the  Saracens; 
And  when  my  master  marched  to  Spain, 
This  coward  hastened  to  regain 

The  naked  heaths  and  fog-wrapped  fens. 

"  Throughout  those  years,  while  I  was  set 
On  my  revenge,  and  though  I  knew 

That  I  should  kill  him  if  we  met, 
I  was  as  much  resolved  to  sue, 

If  chance  permitted,  at  your  throne, 

Convict  him,  so  regain  mine  own, 
And  leave  his  punishment  to  you. 


ioo          THe  Measure  of  tHe  Sword 

"  Then  came  that  glorious  day  whose  noise 
Yet  rings,  when,  while  our  elders  feared 

Or  blenched,  ten  thousand  ardent  boys 
For  certain  death  we  volunteered, 

With  Aimeri  to  lead  us  on 

To  storm  impregnable  Narbonne, 

While  all  the  army  prayed  and  cheered. 

"  And  when  our  frenzied,  hopeless  dash, 

To  our  amazement  and  delight, 
All  in  one  swift,  bewildering  flash 

Stormed  town  and  castle,  keep  and  height, 
As  you  were  generous  to  accord 
To  every  lad  his  due  reward, 

With  others  I  was  made  a  knight. 

"  When  several  of  us,  by  your  leave, 

For  special  praise  our  deeds  had  gained, 

Had  been  selected  to  receive 

Presents  of  honor,  you  had  deigned 

To  grant  to  me  at  my  request 

Whatever  weapon  pleased  me  best 
Of  all  your  treasury  contained. 

"  And  when,  in  all  that  countless  hoard, 

Where  mounds  of  hilts  and  scabbards  shone, 

I  recognized  this  self-same  sword 
As  if  it  had  been  there  alone, 

I  knew  that  it  was  God's  plain  will 

That  in  my  hands  this  blade  should  kill 
This  traitor,  now  it  was  my  own. 


THe  Measure  of  tHe  Sword          101 

"  I  told  my  friends  that  I  should  make 

No  accusation  or  appeal 
And  each  took  oath  he  would  not  break 

His  silence,  and  would  not  reveal 
My  wrongs,  till  after  God's  design, 
As  shown  me  by  this  wondrous  sign, 

Was  executed  by  my  steel. 

"  After  your  armies  ceased  to  roam, 
As  all  your  conquests  had  been  won, 

And  every  man  who  had  a  home 

Turned  homeward,  since  the  wars  were  done, 

Fulk  knew  that  I  was  on  his  track 

And  schemed  to  weaken  the  attack 
He  could  not  any  longer  shun. 

"So  to  this  place  I  was  decoyed 

Alone,  that  he  might  here  commence 

The  combat  he  could  not  avoid, 
And  win  it  by  his  skill  of  fence ; 

Or  that  his  skulking  cravens  could 

Surround  me,  sneaking  from  the  wood, 
While  he  but  stood  on  his  defence. 

"  But  when  he  recognized  this  blade 
Before  him  from  its  scabbard  flashed, 

His  green  tusks  chattered,  and  he  swayed, 
And  self-abandoned  and  abashed, 

He  tottered,  shrouded  in  the  gloom 

Of,  his  inevitable  doom, 

Before  our  swords  had  met  and  clashed. 


102          THe  Measure  of  tKe  Sword 

"  Knowing  God's  anger  and  his  guilt, 

The  framer  of  the  vilest  plot 
By  which  on  earth  was  ever  spilt 

The  blood  of  innocents,  forgot 
His  craft  and  signals.     The  red  spout 
Of  gore  that  let  his  vile  soul  out 

Removed  our  knighthood's  foulest  blot. 

"  This  is  the  tale  of  what  he  did 

And  save  that  I  must  clear  my  fame, 

It  should  remain  forever  hid, 

Not  only  since  he  soils  our  name, 

But  as  this  fiend  was  called  a  man, 

His  greed  and  his  satanic  plan 

Must  fill  all  kindly  men  with  shame. 

Ill 

"  Enthusiastic  for  the  spread 

Of  our  true  faith  and  of  your  sway, 

My  father,  young  and  ardent,  led 
Some  hundred  men-at-arms  away 

From  Var,  where  our  great  castle  frowns 

On  farms  and  forests,  towers  and  towns, 
Of  which  he  would  be  lord  some  day. 

"  Yet  he  felt  called  upon  to  preach 

Religion  in  the  very  nest 
Of  heathendom,  to  plant  and  teach 

Our  knightly  ways  in  lands  unblest. 
His  youth  and  power,  his  wealth  and  will 
He  dedicated  to  fulfil 

What  he  conceived  was  God's  behest. 


THe  Measure  of  tHe  Sword          103 

"  Count  Guy  demurred  he  could  not  spare 

From  his  plain  duty  to  his  fief 
His  eldest  son  and  darling  heir. 

He  urged  his  need  of  him,  his  grief 
At  his  departure :   yet  his  heart 
Was  all  on  fire  to  depart, 

Full  of  his  purpose  and  belief. 

"  Pleasure  and  safety  he  forsook; 

Beyond  your  realm's  utmost  verge 
Far  north  and  east  his  way  he  took, 

Your  herald  and  the  heathen's  scourge. 
Forests  and  mountain-chains  he  passed 
Till  on  the  Saxon  heaths  at  last 

His  force  was  able  to  emerge. 

"  Besides  him,  many  knights  espoused 

The  pious  hermit's  hope  to  save 
The  heathen  tribes,  and  were  aroused 

To  march  northeastward  in  a  wave. 
But  he  alone  achieved  success; 
Others  limped  homeward  in  distress 

Or  found  in  savage  wilds  their  grave. 

"  He  built  a  castle  on  a  hill, 

And  after  months  of  hard-fought  strife 
Subdued  the  chiefs  he  did  not  kill ; 

Won  to  our  faith  and  way  of  life 
The  kinglet  nearest  to  the  place, 
With  all  his  family  and  race, 

And  took  his  daughter  for  his  wife. 


104          THe  Measure  of  tKe  Sword 

"  She  bore  him  seven  goodly  boys, 

And  me  the  eighth.     He  loved  his  lot, 

Its  power,  honor,  wealth,  and  joys, 
But  could  not  pierce  or  rend  the  knot 

Of  foes  about  him;  could  not  stir 

Towards  home,  or  send  a  messenger; 
And  so  lived  utterly  forgot. 

"  Meanwhile,  Count  Fulk  had  qualified, 
With  full  observance,  to  succeed, 

After  Count  Guy  of  Var  had  died, 
To  all  his  fiefs,  and,  though  his  greed 

Showed  later,  this  then  was  no  crime, 

Since  he  and  all  men  at  that  time 
Believed  he  was  the  heir  indeed. 

"  And  then  at  last  your  patience  turned 
To  ire,  since  Saxony  disgraced 

The  world  with  heathen  rites,  and  spurned 
The  faith  all  other  men  embraced, 

And  you  made  ready  to  despatch 

A  mighty  host,  to  overmatch 

Their  tribes  and  leave  their  land  a  waste. 

"  The  heathen  so  aroused  your  wrath 
You  gave  commands  to  execute 

All  captured  males  along  their  path, 
To  accept  no  convert  or  recruit, 

Beheading  mercilessly  both 

The  men  and  boys  of  manly  growth ; 
And,  that  there  should  be  no  dispute 


TKe  Measure  of  tKe  Sword          105 

"  Who  should  be  slain  and  who  be  spared, 
You  gave  a  sword-blade  as  a  guide, 

By  which,  point  down,  hilt  up,  and  bared, 
All  doubtful  cases  should  be  tried, 

And  those  whose  heads  should  come  below 

The  cross-guard,  set  and  measured  so, 
Should  be  preserved,  and  none  beside. 

"  The  very  sword  which  you  bestowed, 
To  which  you  bade  your  men  align 

Their  prisoners  along  their  road 
Has  now,  by  heaven's  plain  design, 

Become  my  weapon,  by  your  gift. 

Before  your  eyes  you  see  me  lift 
This  red  avenger,  which  is  mine. 

IV 

"  It  pleased  your  council  to  select 

That  Ganelon  for  chief  command, 
Who  then  had  all  the  world's  respect, 

And  with  him  went,  as  his  right  hand, 
Count  Fulk  of  Var,  my  uncle,  then 
One  of  the  Empire's  richest  men 

And  leader  of  a  mighty  band. 

"  They  poured  through  Saxony,  a  flood, 

An  inundation  swift  and  vast, 
Drowning  the  land  in  fire  and  blood, 

And  leaving  nothing  where  they  passed; 
They  came  to  where  my  father  dwelt 
And  he  exulted,  for  he  felt 

That  his  reward  was  near  at  last. 


io6          THe  Measure  of  tKe  Sword 

"  As  if  for  pastime  or  to  hunt, 

Without  a  helmet  and  unarmed, 
To  meet  their  close-ranked  serried  front 

My  father  cantered,  unalarmed, 
Not  dreaming  that  their  grim  approach 
Could,  even  by  mischance,  encroach 

On  his  domains,  or  he  be  harmed. 

"  Scattered  behind,  light-horsed  and  few, 
Without  a  breast-plate,  bow,  or  spear, 

His  easy-going  retinue 

Followed  without  a  thought  of  fear, 

And  when  they  saw  their  master  swing 

His  cap,  and  heard  him  shout  and  sing, 
They  waved  their  caps  and  gave  a  cheer. 

"  He  saw  the  archers  in  the  van; 

He  saw  Var's  haughty  banner  float 
Above  them — little  ripples  ran 

Across  it.     Then  on  every  coat — 
He  did  not  need  to  scan  it  twice — 
He  saw  displayed  his  own  device; 

Var's  house-call  carolled  from  his  throat. 

"  My  father  bade  his  men  rejoice. 

Count  Fulk  of  Var,  upon  the  flank 
Of  his  battalion,  knew  the  voice, 

The  call;  his  crumbling  heart-strings  shrank. 
That  instant,  as  he  recognized 
His  brother's  face,  he  realized 

His  loss  of  power,  wealth,  and  rank. 


TKe  Measure  of  tHe  Sword          107 

"  He  did  not  hesitate  or  pause: 
Quick  as  a  lightning-flash  he  chose 

To  give  himself  to  Satan's  claws. 

He  yelled  out:  'Ambush!     These  are  foes. 

Volley ! '  and,  as  the  order  rang, 

A  thousand  bow-strings  gave  one  twang; 
A  cloud  of  arrows,  hurtling,  rose. 

"  My  father  fell.     Without  remorse 
His  fiendish-minded  brother  rushed 

Upon  the  corpse  his  prancing  horse 
Until  the  upturned  face  was  crushed. 

From  off  his  breast  the  archers  tore 

The  emblazoned  surcoat  that  he  wore 

And  thus  the  plainest  proofs  were  hushed. 

"  Some  of  my  father's  men  survived, 
All  wounded,  all  in  tears  and  crazed 

From  panic;  and  with  these  arrived — 
While  all  the  castle  force  was  dazed— 

A  wash  of  wolfish  men,  that  put 

The  helpless  gate-guard  under  foot, 
Before  the  drawbridge  could  be  raised. 

"  The  sun  was  blurred,  behind  the  smoke 
Of  villages  and  farms  transformed 

To  embers.     All  the  doors  they  broke. 
At  the  first  rush  the  keep  they  stormed. 

My  mother  with  her  sons  was  found, 

And  all  of  us  were  seized  and  bound. 
About  us  jeering  swordsmen  swarmed. 


io8          TKe  Measure  of  tHe  Sword 

"  My  mother,  dignified  and  tall, 

Amid  their  taunting,  blood-stained  glee, 

Kept  up  her  courage  through  it  all, 
Still  confident,  if  she  could  see 

And  talk  with  any  knight  or  lord, 

He  would  to  us  at  once  accord 
Protection,  and  would  set  us  free. 

"  Then  she  beheld  this  mighty  count, 
The  blackest-hearted  wretch  on  earth, 

Enter  the  courtyard,  and  dismount. 
She  told  our  lineage  and  birth. 

He  saw,  if  she  should  win  belief, 

By  truthfulness  and  touching  grief, 
How  much  his  titles  would  be  worth. 

"  So,  when  this  fair  pathetic  wraith 
Declared  us  Franks  and  nobly  born, 

Baptized  and  of  the  holy  faith, 
By  misadventure  made  forlorn, 

Since  he  was  with  the  lords  to  flout 

Her  pleading  words,  and  raise  a  shout 
Of  '  Pretext, '  she  was  met  with  scorn. 

"  Famished  and  thirsty,  galled  with  chains, 
We  passed,  inside  a  crowded  sty, 

A  night  of  miseries  and  pains. 

Then  we  were  led,  we  knew  not  why, 

Down  to  the  castle's  tilting- field, 

And  there  we  watched  and  saw  revealed 
The  doom  that  we  wrere  threatened  by. 


THe  Measure  of  tHe  Sword         109 

"  I  saw  the  stern  commander  stand 

Where  round  a  slab  the  grass  was  mown, 

This  very  sword-hilt  in  his  hand. 
He  set  the  point  upon  the  stone. 

Then  from  his  mother's  arms,  fast-clenched 

About  her  child,  a  boy  was  wrenched, 
And  stood  beside  the  blade  alone. 

"  I  saw  Lord  Fulk,  with  others,  lean; 

I  saw  the  four  bluff  swordsmen  bend 
To  eye  the  space  that  came  between 

His  ringlets  and  the  cross-guard's  end. 
And,  when  again  his  mother  clasped 
Her  boy,  she  laughed  and  sobbed  and  gasped, 

And  why  I  did  not  comprehend. 

"  One  after  one  the  children  filed 

Up  to  the  sword  and  were  let  pass. 
And  then  a  somewhat  taller  child 

Reached  to  the  inwrought  steel  and  brass. 
I  saw  the  burly  swordsmen  seize 
The  lad,  and  force  him  to  his  knees. 

His  head  rolled  severed  on  the  grass. 

"  A  score,  a  hundred  lads  were  held 
Beside  the  sword,  and  all  were  served 

Alike.     The  swordsmen  toiled  and  yelled, 

The  red  blades  flashed,   and  never  swerved. 

The  corpses  lay  about  pell-mell. 

The  heads  were  kicked  from  where  they  fell. 
Only  the  babies  were  preserved. 


no          THe  Measure  of  tKe  Sword 

"  I  staggered  at  my  mother's  knee, 
Too  weak,  too  innocent,  and  young, 

For  what  I  had  been  forced  to  see. 
I  smelt,  and  tasted  on  my  tongue, 

The  steam  of  blood.     I  saw  the  spouts 

Of  gore  along  the  swords  in  gouts; 
The  noise  of  shrieks  about  us  hung. 

"  But  when  towards  us  the  butchers  moved, 
The  Count  of  Flanders  interposed : 

'This  woman's  tale  is  not  disproved, 
Its  verity  may  be  disclosed.' 

He  said:  'I  hold  that  we  should  wait 

Until  we  can  investigate. 

The  truth  cannot  be  changed  or  glozed.' 

"  But  Fulk  of  Var  then  raised  a  cry, 
With  furious  rage  and  evil  zest, 

That  every  one  of  us  should  die; 
We  were  not  worthy  of  the  test. 

But  Ganelon  stood  fast  and  scowled; 

Ignored  them  both,  and  only  growled: 
'  Let  them  measured  be  with  the  rest.' 

"  Seeing  the  men-at-arms  advance, 
My  brother  whispered  in  my  ear: 

'  Be  brave.     You  have  at  least  a  chance. 
Cling  to  your  life,  keep  up  your  cheer. 

Avenge  us.     After  you  have  hurled 

This  hound  to  earth,  tell  all  the  world 
His  crimes,  that  all  mankind  may  hear.' 


TKe  Measure  of  tHe  Sword          in 

"  He  topped  the  great  sword,  hilt  and  all, 
And  knelt  himself,  not  faint  or  weak. 

Our  helpless  mother  saw  him  fall. 
As  if  she  called  on  God  to  wreak 

His  vengeance  on  this  heartless  wretch, 

The  very  heaven  seemed  to  stretch 
Before  the  frenzy  of  her  shriek. 

"  But  though  so  terribly  she  screamed 

At  each  inexorable  stroke, 
She  looked  at  first  as  though  she  dreamed. 

Then  suddenly  her  mind  awoke 
To  her  unutterable  loss. 
She  fell,  stretched  out  as  on  a  cross, 

And  never  moved  again  or  spoke. 

"  Then,  of  all  earthly  hope  bereft, 
Cold,  dizzy,  shuddering,  and  blind 

With  terror,  I  alone  was  left. 

A  strong  voice  bade  the  men  unbind 

My  hands,  and  from  behind  my  head 

The  youthful  Count  of  Flanders  said, 
His  voice  encouraging  and  kind: 

"  '  My  child,  endeavor  to  be  strong. 

Go  like  a  knight,  since  go  you  must. 
Even  the  worst  will  not  be  long. 

I  shall  make  sure  the  test  is  just. 
And  this  much  comfort  I  can  give, 
I  shall  protect  you  if  you  live. 

You  have  one  friend  whom  you  can  trust.' 


ii2          THe  Measure  of  tKe  Sword 

"  Though  at  his  words  I  felt  resolved, 
Yet  when  Count  Fulk,  my  uncle,  leaned 

To  watch  me,  all  my  brain  revolved. 
Above  the  harvest  he  had  gleaned, 

Upon  me  such  a  gaze  he  fixed, 

Where  eagerness  and  relish  mixed 
As  on  the  visage  of  a  fiend. 

:<  They  thrust  me  forward  then  to  death, 
Tense,  numb  with  horror  and  despair, 

I  stood,  I  faced  him.     In  one  breath 
I  saw  his  gloating,  wolfish  glare 

Change  into  doubt,  saw  dazed  surprise, 

Chagrin,  and  panic  in  his  eyes — 

And  felt  this  guard  just  graze  my  hair." 


DONE  FOR. 

THE  taste  of  failure  I  had  never  known, 
Success    had  claimed  and  marked  me   for  its 

own, 

Boy-feats  more  than  I  could  recall  or  tell 
I  learnt  at  once  and  executed  well. 
I  had  been  liked  by  all  both  young  and  old, 
And  grew  up  healthy,  natural,  and  bold. 
Then,  with  my  spurs,  I  won  myself  a  name, 
And  in  a  year  or  two  no  narrow  fame. 
All  eyes  were  turned  to  me  in  field  or  town 
From  pure  good-will  not  less  than  my  renown. 
I  found  a  welcome  from  light-hearted  blades, 
And  had  soft  looks  and  words  from  wives  and  maids. 
Nothing  I  did  came  slowly  or  came  hard; 
None  showed  for  me  dislike  or  disregard; 
Court-life  and  war  and  tourney-field  and  rest, 
I  liked  them  all,  and  knew  not  which  was  best. 
Then  I  met  her,  and  all  my  life  was  changed. 
At  court,  although  my  answered  eyes  had  ranged 
Along  the  ladies'  seats,  and  met  bright  smiles, 
Her  look  was  fixed  as  though  she  gazed  for  miles 
Beyond  my  shoulders,  and  beheld,  past  me, 
Some  sight  she  would  be  pleasured  not  to  see. 
The  fierce  delight  of  battle  paled  and  dimmed. 
What  profit  now  to  meet  some  mighty  limbed, 
8  "3 


ii4  Done  For 

Loud-named  helm-hewer,  and  leave  him  stretched  and 

stark ; 

I  knew  that  when  she  heard  she  would  not  mark, 
But  would  sit  with  her  courteous  calm  grace, 
Without  expression  in  her  pose  or  face. 
And  in  a  joust  or  tourney,  if  some  stroke 
Or  some  dexterity  of  mine  awoke 
From  benches  and  from  dais  round  on  round 
Of  warm  applause,  when  at  the  welcome  sound 
I  caught  a  free  breath  in  the  weapon-play, 
And  cast  a  single  longing  glance  her  way, 
My   heart  would    stop    and    my    lungs  burst   with 

rage 

To  see  her  chatting  with  some  dapper  page, 
Plying  her  lace  fan  evenly  and  slow, 
Not  even  watching  wounds  and  death  below. 
Yet  I  still  hoped  my  prowess  or  blind  chance 
Might  win  her  love  or  make  some  slight  advance. 
Though  she  was  always  chilly,  curt,  and  rude, 
Despair  I  would  not,  since  I  had  not  sued. 
And,  while  in  doubt,  the  dream  might  still  be  nursed 
That  the  last  outcome  would  not  be  the  worst. 
Then  came  the  crisis  in  my  kin's  affairs; 
Freshets  of  hopes  alternate  with  despairs; 
Hindrances  to  our  wealth,  shocks  to  our  fame- 
Gusts  of  reports  surcharged  with  loss  and  shame, 
Vague  rumors,  open  mutterings,  later  yet 
Plain  charges,  challenge  made  and  challenge  met. 
And  I  was  chosen  by  our  clan  and  side 
Chief  champion,  and  accepted  in  glad  pride. 
Up  to  this  time,  though  I  had  yearned  in  vain, 
And  being  near  her  had  but  brought  me  pain, 


Done  For  115 

All  her  rebuffs  and  cumulative  scorns 

Had  spurred  me  on  like  flagellating  thorns. 

To  brood  upon  how  all  my  plans  befell 

Was  irritant  but  stimulant  as  well ; 

Looking  ahead,  I  knew  she  might  reject 

My  suit  outright,  but  I  did  not  suspect 

Despondence  or  dejection's  grip  might  seize 

My  coiled  volitions,  come  what  chance  might  please. 

The  more  insuperable  the  prospect  seemed, 

The  more  my  sinews  strung,  my  tense  brain  schemed 

To  conquer  chances,  to  subdue  her  hate, 

To  win  her  love  and  person  soon  or  late. 

And  now  I  felt  keen  joy  that  I  could  trust 

My  eye  and  hand  to  win  this  much  discussed 

Wager  of  battle.     Dearly  I  loved  strife — 

Man  set  to  man  for  honor  or  for  life. 

Here    both     were     risked;    much     honor     was    to 

win, 

Wealth,  power,  reputation  for  my  kin; 
Leadership  with  them  while  my  prime  endured 
And  chieftaincy  in  age  would  be  secured, 
And  all  these  hung  upon  my  sword  and  spear, 
And  so  seemed  easily  in  reach  and  near. 
And,  such  is  love's  fatuity,  I  weened 
That,  if,  victorious  and  well-demeaned, 
I  came  out  from  this  joust,  I  had  some  chance, 
If  at  the  nick  I  made  a  bold  advance, 
To  win  consent  from  her,  or  at  the  least 
Some  sign  of  yielding ;  and  my  hopes  increased. 
For  till  the  judgment  ends  all  hopes  and  fears, 
Through  dreads  and  doubts,  through  centuries  and 

years, 


"6  Done  Tor 

Lovers  will  plan,  by  service  or  by  deed — 

Such  as  would  gain  a  well-disposed  maid's  heed, 

For  one  who  plead  transfigured,  flushed,  and  scarred— 

To  win  from  unrelenting  dames  regard. 

By  the  preceding  day  I  had  well  planned 

Our  strategy,  and  had  advised  my  band. 

Nothing  remained  till  dawn  to  do  or  say ; 

Hale,  shrived,  and  houselled  on  my  bed  I  lay. 

There  came  to  me  returning  thoughts  of  her, 

Forgotten  partly  in  our  warlike  stir. 

I  rose,  and  in  the  sidelong  moonlight  there 

Kneeled  on  the  rushes,  and  in  brief  hot  prayer 

Besought  our  Lady  and  the  saints  to  give 

A  sign,  not  that  1  should  prevail  and  live— 

Of  both  these  I  felt  certain — but  if  aught 

That  I  could  do  would  touch  her  heart  or  thought. 

When  afterward  I  laid  me  down  and  slept, 

Into  my  ken  a  vague,  dim  vision  crept. 

It  seemed  that  I  was  smaller  than  I  am. 

My  lids  drooped  heavily;  my  hot  eyes  swam; 

My  breathing  made  no  sound,  my  tongue  was  dumb; 

I  could  not  move  my  limbs,  I  was  all  numb, 

With  a  strange  sense  of  helplessness  and  fright 

Like  a  girl-child  lost  and  alone  at  night. 

I  felt  as  I  imagined  one  might  feel 

Trampled  by  hoofs,  battered  and  pierced  by  steel, 

Who  all  night  in  the  wind  and  frost  has  lain, 

Crushed  yet  alive  under  a  heap  of  slain. 

I  lay  cramped,  crumpled,  weaponless  within 

The  circling  arms  of  some  one  of  my  kin 

Who  bore  me,  not  as  one  would  strain  below 

Some  great-boned  warrior,  pantingly  and  slow, 


Done  For  117 

But  as  one  bears  a  weightless  infant,  caught 

Against  his  breast,  without  remark  or  thought. 

I  seemed  borne  down  with  an  enormous  weight 

And  struggling  to  remember,  now  too  late, 

Things  best  forgotten,  as  though  I  had  passed 

Through  some  misfortune  limitlessly  vast. 

Nothing  was  clear  in  this  strange  dream  except 

The  hateful,  certain  consciousness — that  kept, 

I  knew  not  how,  coiled  round  me  like  a  snake, 

Like  nothing  I  had  ever  known  awake — 

That  I  was  broken,  crippled,  spoiled,  and  maimed, 

My  body  ruined,  yet  my  soul  unshamed. 

Then  like  a  torch-flash  through  my  dreaming  flared 

The  half  thought  that  I  had  essayed  and  dared 

Some  needless  danger  for  my  lady ;  fought 

Against  vast  odds;  had  acted  as  I  ought, 

And  had  been  conquered  by  some  chance  malign, 

Wrecked  and  disfeatured  by  no  fault  of  mine 

But  in  her  service,  and  my  heart  ebbed  out 

At  the  unconquerable  pressing  doubt, 

Would  she  still  spurn  me  as  when  her  fit  mate, 

Or  pity  somewhat  now  my  wretched  state. 

All  this  passed  in  a  breath ;  my  bearer  strode 

With  his  unnoticed,  barely  sentient  load, 

Down  a  long  cloistered  corridor-like  way, 

Pillared  at  intervals,  as  light  as  day, 

With  a  clerestory  pierced  with  windows  square, 

Opened  unlatticed  to  the  outer  air, 

And  set  above  my  head  some  feet,  as  though 

A  walk  was  there  whence  one  might  gaze  below. 

And  moving  as  we  moved  through  them  we  saw 

My  lady's  face,  pure,  fair,  without  a  flaw, 


n8  Done  For 

Gazing  straight  forward,  quiet  and  un vexed, 

From  each  space  reappearing  in  the  next, 

As  if  she  paced  for  pastime  in  her  pride, 

And  knew  or  heeded  not  my  pain  outside. 

My  bearer  turned,  some  steps  he  reached  and  climbed, 

And  there,  as  if  our  movements  had  been  timed, 

At  a  door,  arras-hung,  framed  in  carved  wood, 

Upon  my  left  my  lovely  lady  stood, 

Her  hand  upon  the  hangings,  on  her  head 

A  circlet  of  cut  jewels  flaming  red, 

Her  curled  lips  redder,  her  cheeks  pale  and  cool, 

Her  eyes  deep-colored  like  a  woodland  pool, 

Her  garments  flowing,  graceful  fold  on  fold, 

But  all  her  seeming  not  more  fair  than  cold. 

And  when  she  saw  me  perfectly  and  clear, 

She  laughed  out  with  a  ringing,  merry  sneer. 

My  heart  shut  at  the  sound ;  my  dreaming  broke ; 

In  a  cold  agony  of  dread  I  woke, 

And  in  the  young  light  of  the  growing  morn 

I  lay,  eyes  shut,  heart  quaking  and  forlorn. 

Unthinking  and  by  folly  too  deceived, 

In  my  fierce  panic  then  I  quite  believed 

This  was  the  sign  for  which  I  just  had  prayed, 

And,  so  believing,  was  the  more  afraid; 

But  now  for  years  I  have  known  in  my  heart 

That  it  was  sorcery  or  wicked  art. 

Witchcraft  I  had  discredited,  and  charms; 

Magic  to  me  had  never  caused  alarms  ; 

But  now  I  felt  its  might;  without  a  spell, 

No  change  could  come  such  as  to  me  befell. 

All  of  the  current  of  my  nature's  stream 

Was  altered  by  that  momentary  dream. 


Done  For  119 

Victor  in  all  my  fights,  strong  to  prevail, 

I  felt  my  hams  cringe  and  my  courage  quail, 

My  pride  snuffed  out,  and  my  ambition  bowed 

As  if  I  were  a  laggard,  quelled  and  cowed 

By  the  remembrance  of  recalls,  retreats, 

Disasters,  blunders,  sneakings,  and  defeats. 

That  transient  vision  made  my  force  as  lame 

As  a  long  past  of  cowardice  and  shame. 

The  thought  of  wounds  had  been  as  strange  to  me 

As  a  real  wound  or  overthrow  could  be, 

And  now  anticipations  crammed  my  head 

Of  agony  and  terror,  pain  and  dread. 

My  very  arms  brought  fright  to  me,  not  pride, 

My  impulse  was  to  crawl  away  and  hide. 

I  bungled  our  formation ;  lost  my  head ; 

Misplaced  the  watch-words ;  fought  with  arms  like  lead ; 

Went  down  before  a  boy  opponent's  spear, 

And  all  beholders  said  I  blenched  for  fear. 

We  lost  the  gage,  I  was  not  killed  outright, 

Though  I  had  many  wounds ;  and  in  the  night 

My  kin  conveyed  my  senseless  carcase  off, 

And  hid  me  well  from  injury  or  scoff. 

When  cured  and  whole,  my  life  was  done,  and  I 

Fled  here;  took  orders;  and  here  wait  to  die. 


MARCABRUN. 

A  la  fontana  del  vergier, 

On  1'  erb  es  vertz  jostal  gravier. 

MARCABRUN. 

I   found  her  by  the  fountain  where 
The  castle  garden  slopes  aside. 
The  spring  birds'  songs  lit  all  the  air, 
And  that  slim  brook  the  grasses  hide 
Droned  in  the  shadows ;  many  flowers 
Made  all  the  borders  glad  and  fair. 

After  so  many  lonely  hours 
I  saw  her  kneeling  there. 

Through  endless  leagues  of  angry  sea 

And  wet  gray  skies  we  won  the  shore 
At  dawn;  the  sunrise  seemed  to  be 

A  dawn  in  heaven,  with  the  roar 
Still  in  our  ears  of  strange,  wild  waters, 

With  hands  outworn  by  sword  and  oar, 
Weary  of  watchings  and  of  slaughters 

We  wandered  now  no  more. 

With  the  soft  air  I  loved  so  well 
Fresh  in  my  nostrils,  still  it  seemed 

Too  sweet  to  be ;  I  could  not  tell 
Whether  I  lived  or  if  I  dreamed 

120 


Marcabrxin  121 

To  wake  with  Moslem  war-cries  ringing 
Around  our  starved  camp,  yell  on  yell, 

In  the  hot,  desert  twilight,  singing 
The  songs  of  fiends  of  hell. 

Across  the  orchard's  gentle  slope 

She  did  not  look  as  I  drew  near, 
As  in  my  voice  there  was  no  hope. 

Speaking  her  name,  she  did  not  hear; 
Then  I  perceived  that  she  was  praying. 

I  stood  irresolute,  for  fear 
Lest  I  might  hear  if  she  were  saying 

Words  only  for  God's  ear. 

"Dear  God,  it  was  at  your  behest," 

She  said,  and  tears  were  in  her  voice, 
1 '  That  brave  King  Louis  with  his  best 

Took  the  one  love  that  was  my  choice 

On  his  crusade  to  strive  and  battle 
For  your  son's  tomb,  a  dreadful  quest. 

Each  night  I  hear  his  hoarse  death-rattle 
In  dreams  of  wild  unrest. 

"Alas,  two  long  years  have  gone  past 

Since  I  saw  him,  nor  have  I  heard. 
Was  my  last  sight  of  him  the  last 

In  very  deed?     My  eyes  are  blurred 
With  tears.     I  pray  to  keep  him  living, 

Dear  Lord,  each  day;  my  dreams  are  stirred 
Still  with  no  message  of  your  giving 

No  comfort,  not  one  word. 


122  Marcabrun 

"Dear  God,  his  love  would  have  been  mine, 

Had  he  not  gone  into  the  East; 
The  voice  that  called  him  was  divine, 

Oh,  let  it  answer  me,  at  least. 

Give  me  some  hope,  give  me  some  token 
He  is  alive  across  the  brine. 

If  no  assurance  may  be  spoken 
Give  me  at  least  some  sign." 

My  heart  within  my  bosom  sank, 

Turned  all  at  once  from  flame  to  lead ; 
The  blood  in  all  my  body  shrank, 

The  heavens  boomed  above  my  head ; 
The  earth  beneath  my  feet  seemed  sinking ; 

My  doom  in  blazing  words  outspread , 
Seemed  written  on  the  sky,  and  blinking, 

And  gasping,  thus  I  said : 

"My  lady,  all  your  fears  are  vain. 

Charles  of  Loupey  is  living  now ; 
As  we  cast  anchor,  with  his  train 

I  saw  him  at  his  galley's  prow. 

His  name  is  crowned  with  all  men's  praises 
His  sword  has  mown  his  foes  like  grain ; 

Blest  with  high  honor,  such  as  raises 
Few,  he  comes  home  again." 

My  darling  started,  and  her  face, 

As  if  she  suddenly  awoke, 
Changed,  but  she  moved  not  from  her  place 

Till  I  had  ceased ;  a  soft  smile  broke 


Marcabrun  123 

Forth  in  her  eyes,  like  opening  flowers, 
Through  me  it  sent  a.  lightning  stroke ; 

Her  tears  fell  gently,  like  spring  showers ; 
Then  she  stood  up  and  spoke. 

No  other  face  so  fair  might  be, 

No  angel's  voice  could  tell  her  charms. 

"I  will  chide  God  no  more,"  said  she, 
And  opened  out  to  me  her  arms, 
"God  is  good,  he  has  made  me  know  it, 

Since  him  I  prayed  so  long  to  see 
My  own  true  love,  my  loyal  poet, 

God  has  brought  back  to  me." 


CERTAINTY. 

THE  huge  rough  Duke,  all  ruddy  and  fresh- tanned 
With  the  last  war,  lolled  in  the  winter  sun 
Upon  his  bear-skins  and  rich  furs  in  piles. 
Southward  the  day  was  perfect  on  the  land, 
Crisp  zephyrs  all  around  the  castle  spun, 
The  sky  seemed  made  of  smiles. 

The  slim  fair  King,  close-knit  and  nervous-thewed, 
Sat  by  him  on  the  terrace,  in  his  chair, 

His  sword  beneath  his  lute  across  his  knees. 
His  eyes  saw  more  of  everything  he  viewed, 
Although  he  quaffed  less  deeply  of  the  air; 
Felt  less  the  bracing  breeze. 

"A  poet  do  you  call  this  pensioner?" 

Scoffed  the  big  Duke,  a  laugh  deep  in  his  beard, 

"Poet,  and  therefore  pensioner  of  yours! 
If  he  be  so,  his  songs  make  little  stir. 

Who  sings  them?     Is  he  loved  for  them  or  feared 
Among  your  troubadours?" 

"Nay,"  quoth  the  King,    "a  pensioner  he  is, 
Being  my  loyal  subject  from  the  first. 

A  poet  is  he,  perfect  in  his  art. 
If  you  have  never  known  a  song  as  his, 
Believe  me  when  I  say  his  very  worst 
Have  moved  my  inmost  heart." 
124 


Certainty  125 

"Give  me  a  sign  of  each, "  still  urged  the  Duke, 
"His  utter  loyalty  for  no  rewards; 

His  poet's  soul,  one  not  to  be  denied." 
And  the  King  knit  his  brows,  half  in  rebuke, 
Half  at  his  memories  of  rebel  lords, 
And  slowly  he  replied : 

"He  was  the  first  I  spoke  to  when  my  wrong 
Was  at  its  greatest.     And  he  took  my  side— 

A  ragged  wanderer,  altered  and  alone — 
And  he  it  was  who  made  the  battle-song 
We  sang,  when  in  my  traitor  uncle's  pride 
We  hurled  him  from  the  throne. 

"And,  when  I  asked  him  how  he  knew  his  King, 
He  answered  as  a  poet  only  might, 

His  quick  eyes  lit  with  an  undoubted  gleam: 
1 1  knew  you  without  proof  of  anything. 
I  felt  conviction  in  me  at  first  sight, 
As  vivid  as  a  dream.'  " 


THE  EMPEROR. 

r  I  COWARD  evening  of  a  perfect  afternoon, 

1       The  morrow  of  a  gorgeous  festival, 
An  emperor  was  pacing  by  the  sea. 
Like  sluggish  wreaths  of  lapsing  incense-smoke 
Dissolving  down  a  stilled,  deserted  aisle 
There  eddied  in  the  cloisters  of  his  soul 
Subsiding  reminiscences  of  pomp, 
Emotions,  adulation,  and  resolves. 
Save  for  his  youngest  son,  a  child  at  play, 
Between  the  pines  and  waves  he  stood  alone. 
The  round,  red  sun  above  the  sailless  sea 
Glowed  like  a  lamp  before  a  solemn  shrine ; 
The  firmament  was  quiet  as  a  dome 
Above  the  hush  of  a  cathedral  nave ; 
The  monarch  felt  the  fountains  of  his  heart 
Well  up  within,  and  overflow  with  prayer. 
His  mind  traversed  his  tense,  terrific  past; 
Saw  the  triumphant  present  he  had  won ; 
Beheld  the  splendid  prospect  far  before, 
And  yearned  above  the  fabric  he  had  made. 
"O  God,"  he  cried,  "my  guardian  and  my  hope, 
Look  down  upon  the  work  that  I  have  wrought, 
A  broad-based  empire,  founded  full  and  firm, 
Built  for  thy  glory  in  the  fear  of  thee, 
Bastioned  about  the  provinces  in  tiers, 
And  dominated  by  a  dynasty 
126 


TKe  Emperor  127 

Far-rooted,  virile,  fashioned  to  endure. 
Bless  it  and  have  it  in  thy  holy  keep, 
And  look  upon  it  still  benignantly 
Through  endless  generations  yet  to  be." 

God  heard  him  from  his  high  and  awful  throne 

Beside  the  ocean  of  eternity. 

He  eyed  the  countless  ripples  of  the  years 

Wrinkling  the  shifting  and  unresting  slopes ; 

The  huddled  wavelets  of  the  centuries 

That  seamed  the  periods  along  their  flanks ; 

The  serried  billows  of  the  ages,  ridged 

And  huge  in  their  implacable  advance, 

Innumerable  to  their  vanishing 

Against  the  infinite  horizon's  verge. 

He  felt  the  unrelenting  wind  of  fate, 

Unveering,  sempiternal,  and  the  same, 

Push  on,  unde  via  ting  and  serene, 

Propelling  all  before  it  and  below. 

Afar  across  its  booming  resonance 

He  heard  heave  and  subside  in  mighty  breaths 

The  respiration  of  the  tides  of  time 

Undreaming  in  their  multitudinous  sleep. 

The  whisper  of  the  cycles  as  they  waked 

Diffused  a  drone  throughout  the  firmament. 

He  heard  void  hollows  of  resurgent  time 

Obscurely  moaning  from  their  darkened  depths 

Between  the  threatening  and  majestic  dunes 

Of  bulged,  recurrent  aeons  weltering  on. 

Amid  the  tumult,  he  descried  the  noise 

Of  overdriven  eras  toppling  down, 

Smashing  and  sliding  into  ravening  spray ; 


128  THe  E,mperor 

The  culminating  crash  and  rending  roar 
From  the  disdainful  and  tumultuous  crests 
Of  maddened  epochs  bursting  into  foam. 
The  present,  poised  and  arching  in  its  leap, 
Crumbled  in  long  battalions,  writhed  and  frayed, 
Of  hissing,  live,  and  ever-climbing  surf 
That  flogged  the  altering,  unsubstantial  shore. 
Watching  its  lapping  tongues  of  swishing  spume, 
God  looked  upon  the  Emperor  and  smiled. 

The  eager  child  embraced  his  father's  knees, 
And  shouted:     "Father,  look  what  I  have  made! 
I  made  it  all  myself  and  all  for  you. 
Let  us  come  here  and  see  it  every  day." 

The  Emperor  regarded  walls  and  forts, 
Redans  and  scarps  heaped  up  of  oozing  sand. 
The  rising  wind  sang  strongly  toward  the  coast ; 
A  lathering  gush  of  effervescing  froth 
Licked  toward  his  feet;  and  he  looked  down   and 
smiled. 


THE  GHOULA. 

BECAUSE  my  mate  did  not  return, 
And  since  my  little  ones  must  eat, 
I  sallied  forth  alone  to  learn, 

Myself,  to  win  my  children  meat. 

Whatever  man  upon  my  way, 

Hunter  or  villager  robust, 
I  met  alone  and  marked  for  prey, 

My  smile  would  lull  his  first  distrust ; 

My  beauty   touched   his   heart   at   length, 
And  in  my  form  he  could  not  guess 

A  hint  of  that  titanic  strength 
Which  even  female  ghouls  possess. 

At  dusk,  at  sundawn,  or  at  noon 
I  lured  him  from  ravine  or  road 

To  where  the  ruins  are.     And  soon 
We  feasted  in  our  dim  abode. 

Men's  flesh  is  best.     If  none  came  near, 
I  caught  some  bullock,  sheep,  or  goat, 

Or,  waiting  at  a  pool  the  deer, 
Leapt  like  a  panther  at  its  throat. 
129 


130  TKe  GHoxila 

Three  days,  and  to  my  younglings'  cries 
I  brought  but  pilfered  scraps  of  food. 

I  saw  the  famine  in  their  eyes 
And  hunted  in  no  gentle  mood. 

Next  day  above  the  desert  plain 

Our  Persian  sky  arched  blue  and  clear. 

From  the  lookout  where  I  had  lain 
I  saw  a  figure  drawing  near; 

An  Englishman  who  strayed  alone, 
Careless  of  nomads,  ghouls,  or  spells, 

To  beat  the  waste  of  sand  and  stone 
For  hares  or  bustards  or  gazelles. 

He  spoke  our  homely  Persian  tongue ; 

I  found  him  nowise  hard  to  fool ; 
And  yet,  he  was  so  tall  and  young, 

I  wished  that  he  had  been  a  ghoul. 

My  hunting  had  engrossed  my  mind, 
Since  of  my  mate  I  was  bereft. 

Now,  staring  through  the  months  behind, 
I  felt  how  lonely  I  was  left. 

My  starved  mouth  watered  at  the  view 
Of  pink  cheeks,  tender,  plump,  and  nigh, 

And  yet  it  seemed  a  pity  too; 
He  looked  too  comely  far  to  die. 

As  by  my  side  he  idly  paced, 

Before  the  ruins  we  had  neared, 

Between  two  boulders  on  the  waste, 
Some  distance  off,  a  doe  appeared. 


XKe  GHoxila  131 

He  raised  his  rifle  and  took  aim. 

Then,  as  I  watched  to  see  her  spring, 
He  stopped  and   said:     "It  seems  a   shame 

"To  kill  the  pretty,  dainty  thing." 

It  startled  me  to  find  this  youth, 

So  heedless,  hale,  and  lithe  of  limb, 
Felt  for  his  game  the  selfsame  ruth 

Which  I  had  felt  at  sight  of  him. 

She  stood  and  stared  before  she  ran. 

"What  good  to  us  that  she  should  roam," 
I  said:     "Best  shoot  her  while  you  can, 

We  have  no  meat  at  all  at  home." 

His  bullet  missed.  The  creature  fled. 

He  flushed,  surprised,  chagrined,  and  vexed. 
Then,  smiling  cheerily,  he  said: 

"I  may  do  better  with  the  next. 

"That  lean  doe  was  not  worth  regret, 
You  may  get  meat  some  other  way." 

I  answered,  with  my  purpose  set, 
"Indeed,  I  rather  think  I  may." 


How   cool   the   shadowed   archway    smelt, 

Pleasant  and  softly  lit  inside! 
His  arm  went  round  my  waist.     I  felt 

My   young  would   not   have  long  to  bide. 


132  THe  GHoxila 

They  cowered  huddling  in  our  lair. 

Their    pangs    I    knew    they   would    endure 
In  silence,  rather  than  to  scare 

Quarry  of  which  I  was  not  sure. 

Inebriated  with  my  charms, 

He  held  me  closely,  unaware 
That  he  was  helpless  in  my  arms 

As  is  a  rabbit  in  a  snare. 

Time  after  time  our  lips  had  met; 

His   curly   head   to   mine   I    drew, 
A  kiss  upon    his  throat  I  set — 

And  bit  the  windpipe  through  and  through. 


Firm  flesh  to  eat,  clean  blood  to  drink, 
Fitted  to  make  my  dear  ones  thrive, 

And  yet,  since  then,  I  often  think — 
He  was  so  handsome  when  alive. 

Who  knows,  but  for  my  darlings'  need 
I  might  have  softened,  let  him  go? 

I  find  it  in  my  heart  indeed 

To  wish  that  he  had  shot  the  doe. 


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